A  Honeymoon  Experiment 


A  HONEYMOON 

EXPERIMENT 

By 

Margaret  and  Stuart  Chase 


Boston  and  New  York 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company 


1916 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LESARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


COPYRIGHT,   1916,  BY  STUART  CHASE 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Publishtd  May  iqib 


Note 

THE  following  is  a  summary  of  our  experi- 
ences as  a  honeymoon  couple  in  the  city  of 
Rochester,  New  York,  in  the  summer  and  fall 
of  the  year  1914.  We  have  tried  to  give  truth- 
fully the  facts  of  what  we  found,  and  we  have 
also  given,  of  necessity,  certain  opinions  and 
conclusions,  but  these  latter  should,  and  un- 
doubtedly will,  have  infinitely  less  weight  in 
the  mind  of  the  reader  than  the  former.  It  is 
primarily  in  the  hope  that  the  facts  of  our 
experiment  will  be  illuminating,  that  we  offer 
this  little  book. 

MARGARET  HATFIELD  CHASE 
STUART  CHASE 


Contents 

Part  I 

The  Groom's  Story » 

Why  We  Went 3 

The  First  Day IO 

The  Boarding- House 22 

Light  Housekeeping 25 

Unemployment 4° 

Employment 78 

And  Finally 79 

Part  II 

The  Bride's  Story     . « 5 

Tramping  the  Streets 

In  the  Employment  Offices i°° 

Second- Maid  Interviews IO3 

Employment       .        .        .        •        •        •       •       •  I1Q 

My  First  Job  — Salesgirl I!I 

Waitress •        •        •  l !  5 

Rag-Time  Clerk IZI 

The  Chemical  Shop I25 

The  Cravat  Factory I27 

Piano-Player  at  the  "Movies"     .       .       •        •  »36 

The  White-Slave  Problem H1 

Another  Problem H8 

And  Finally !  54 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 
Part  I 

The  Groom  s  Story 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

Part  I — The  Groom's  Story 

WHY  WE  WENT 

"ANY  worthy  man  that  wants  a  job  can 
get  it!" 

I  believe  that  this  statement,  despite  the 
deep  groove  that  it  has  worn  in  the  average  un- 
thinking mind,  is  utterly  without  foundation  in 
fact.  I  want  to  tell  you  why  I  believe  that  it  is 
not  true.  I  want  to  tell  you  how  I  tramped  for 
nine  weeks  through  the  streets  of  a  great  Amer- 
ican city,  and  how  I  was  unable  upon  applica- 
tion to  secure  work  at  a  wage  that  would  keep 
me  alive. 

And  I  want  to  tell  you  more.  I  want  to  tell 
you  what  it  means  to  live  as  the  average  Ameri- 
can citizen  in  this  country  has  to  live  on  his 
family  income  of  $600  a  year,  as  given  by  the 
United  States  Census.  I  want  to  suggest  to 

3 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

you,  if  I  can,  something  of  the  violent  and 
absurd  contrast  between  the  way  that  some  of 
us  live  and  the  way  that  most  of  us  live. 

We  had  had  it  rather  easy,  Margaret  and  I. 
We  had  had  every  normal  advantage  of  the  well- 
to-do  child  —  sheltered  upbringing,  school,  col- 
lege, travel,  vacations,  motors,  country  clubs, 
and  all  the  rest.  Between  us  and  necessity  had 
always  lain  the  heavy  upholstery  of  our  fam- 
ilies' care.  We  had  gone  our  several  ways  ac- 
cepting, occasionally  demanding.  And  in  our 
immature  years  we  came  to  believe,  as  the  over- 
whelming majority  of  our  complacent  class  be- 
lieves, that  one's  carefully  adjusted  standards 
of  living  must  be  maintained ;  that  it  is  a  dis- 
grace to  be  poor;  and  that  most  misery  and 
poverty  and  wretchedness  arises  from  the  un- 
thrifty, dirty,  and  questionable  ways  of  the 
"ignorant  lower  classes." 

I  am  amazed,  as  I  look  back  upon  my  up- 
bringing and  review  the  narrow  class  distinc- 
tions that  pervaded  it.  The  "brotherhood  of 

4 


The  Groom's  Story 

man"  which  religion  preached,  "democracy" 
as  I  learned  it  in  American  history,  were  matters 
infinitely  remote  and  apart.  They  were  fine 
but  formless  abstractions.  They  were  all  very 
well  to  proclaim  of  a  Sunday,  but  they  were 
held  to  be  utterly  impractical  in  everyday  liv- 
ing. The  practical  things  were  these :  One  must 
not  play  with  ragged  little  boys.  They  are  con- 
taminating. One  must  never  mention  one's 
cousin  who  had  the  grievous  misfortune  to  work 
in  a  factory.  One  must  cultivate  an  air  of  inti- 
macy in  mentioning  certain  rich  and  powerful 
names.  One  must  early  learn  to  treat  servants 
as  though  they  were  non-existent  —  only  so 
may  they  be  kept  in  their  rightful  place.  One 
must  evolve  a  certain  scorn  for  all  manual 
labor.  Above  all,  one  must  hope  to  succeed  — 
that  is,  to  get  rich.  It  is  immaterial  whether 
this  success  comes  from  an  inheritance,  or  a 
lucky  gamble  on  the  stock  market,  or  any  other 
source  short  of  actual  robbery. 
I  was  given  literally  no  standards  whatever 

5  , 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

by  which  I  might  judge  true  worth.  Education 
will  always  be  the  muffling,  half-coherent  thing 
it  is  to-day  until  girls  and  boys  are  taught  the 
fundamental  difference  between  owning  some- 
thing and  doing  something  for  a  living,  and  the 
fundamental  bond  of  fellowship  that  links  all 
humanity  together. 

These  distinctions  had  never  bothered  us  at 
home.  We  had  never  heard  of  them  in  college. 
It  was  only  afterwards,  when  we  came  to  do  a 
little  independent  thinking,  that  there  began  to 
creep  into  our  lives  the  virus  of  social  criticism 
and  unrest.  We  met  each  other  in  this  ques- 
tioning stage.  We  groped  along  together,  ask- 
ing Why.  Our  love  is  interwoven  with  the  re- 
bellion of  youth  against  a  future  predestined  to 
follow  fixed  and  rigid  social  standards. 

We  came  to  feel  continuously  uneasy  before 
the  vast  injustices  of  "Things-as-they-are." 
We  wanted  to  know  why  we  should  be  well  off 
and  protected,  and  why  little  Johnny  Murphy 
down  the  street  was  having  the  very  devil  of  a 

6 


The  Groom's  Story 

time.  Our  sympathies  tended  to  drift  strongly 
toward  the  working-classes.  But  we  were  over- 
whelmed by  an  avalanche  of  opposition  from 
our  friends.  We  were  told  that  we  did  not  know 
what  we  were  talking  about  —  that  we  were 
"theorists,"  "dreamers  . .  .  ."  Of  course  we 
were  theorists,  and  very  often  we  had  to  fight 
strange  misgivings  in  our  own  souls! 

But  here  at  last  was  our  honeymoon!  It  was 
ours,  our  own,  to  do  as  we  pleased  with.  It  was 
the  one  time  in  all  our  lives  when  the  world 
stood  aside,  and  the  path  lay  free  before  us.  We 
decided  to  devote  our  honeymoon  to  the  task  of 
finding  out  more  concerning  the  matters  that  so 
profoundly  perplexed  us.  Ever  since  our  first 
talks  together  we  had  wanted  to  know  how  it 
felt  to  live  beyond  the  pale  of  family  and  class 
influence.  Here  was  our  chance.  We  could 
utilize  these  honeymoon  weeks  to  start  clean 
and  clear  at  the  bottom.  We  could  go  to  some 
strange  city  as  a  homeless,  jobless,  friendless 
couple,  and  see  what  it  meant  to  face  existence 

7 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

without  an  engraved  passport.  And  in  living 
as  the  average  citizen  lives  on  his  meager  in- 
come, we  could  perhaps  shake  off  some  of  the 
superfluous  standards  of  comfort  and  nicety  to 
which  we  had  always  been  accustomed,  and 
perhaps  find  out  how  much  it  really  costs  to 
live. 

"A  man  ought  to  have  four  thousand  a  year 
before  he  marries." 

I  had  heard  this  solemnly  proclaimed  time 
and  time  again  by  my  friends. 

We  wanted  to  discover  a  flaw  in  this  oracular 
statement.  We  wanted  to  know  why  we  had  to 
have  $4000  a  year,  while  the  average  family, 
including  children,  was  getting  $600.  There 
was  a  fearful  discrepancy  here  somewhere.  We 
wanted  to  find  where  it  lay. 

Also  the  phrase  "theorists  and  dreamers" 
rankled.  It  was  too  true.  We  wanted  to  escape 
the  obloquy  of  that. 

We  told  the  family  of  our  plan  one  evening 
around  the  fire.  They  were  naturally  shocked. 

8 


The  Groom's  Story 

But  they  had  to  admit  that  it  was  our  honey- 
moon. Beyond  entertaining,  I  suspect,  a  secret 
belief  that  we  were  both  incurably  crazy,  they 
raised  no  overwhelming  objections.  Certainly 
we  promised  to  be  very,  very  careful.  .  .  . 

We  were  married  and  went  North  into  On- 
tario for  a  canoe  trip.  Of  course,  when  two 
people  are  quite  mad  about  each  other,  it  is  not 
wise  to  eliminate  completely  the  romantic. 
There  under  the  far  northern  pines,  between 
the  intervals  of  portages  and  frying  bacon,  we 
perfected  our  plans. 

We  came  out  of  the  woods,  hard  and  brown, 
and  headed  for  Buffalo.  I  was  in  favor  of  at- 
tacking Buffalo,  but  Margaret  shook  her  head. 

"We've  too  many  friends  there,"  she  said. 

So  we  decided  to  make  it  Rochester.  Neither 
of  us  knew  anything  about  Rochester,  save  that 
it  was  the  home  of  Eastman  kodaks,  Cluett 
collars,  and  Susan  B.  Anthony.  And  we  knew 
of  no  friends  there,  to  entangle  the  adventure. 

9 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

We  stayed  the  night  in  the  best  hotel  in 
Buffalo  —  much  as  a  man  who  is  going  to  give 
up  drinking  gets  gloriously  drunk  on  his  last 
day  of  grace. 

THE   FIRST    DAY 

"What  in  the  world  are  we  going  to  say  to 
people?"  asked  Margaret. 

We  debated  that.  Finally  we  decided  upon 
the  following. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stuart  Chase,  late  of  Boston, 
where  Mr.  Chase  had  been  employed  as  a  book- 
keeper, but  had  lost  his  job  due  to  dull  times, 
have  come  to  Rochester,  hearing  that  it  is  a 
great  manufacturing  city,  and  both  hope  to 
secure  work,  in  this  crisis  in  the  family  affairs. 
"That  sounds  weird,"  said  Margaret. 

"It  does,"  I  said,  "but  we'll  try  it  out." 

The  clerk  at  the  Iroquois  gasped  as  we  paid 
our  bill  that  momentous  morning.  I  had 
changed  my  suit  to  a  shabby,  unpressed,  gray 

10 


The  Groom's  Story 

arrangement,  lamentably  worn  at  the  elbows. 
Margaret  was  shameless  in  a  suit  quite  three 
years  old!  It  had  been  made  in  Paris  in  1911, 
and  had  never  been  altered !  It  was  a  perfectly 
good  suit,  but  you  can  imagine  the  sensation 
that  she  created.  Even  the  most  wretched  of 
the  friends  we  were  to  make  pitied  her  in  that 
suit.  She  was  to  be  a  subject  for  profound  con- 
sideration and  sympathy!  Three  years  behind 
the  fashions !  She  was  as  hopelessly  antiquated 
as  a  battleship  that  had  served  in  the  Spanish 
War.  We  were  to  find  that  the  American  work- 
ing-girl, though  she  does  not  pay  much  for 
material,  somehow  achieves  the  ultra  in  cut. 

The  ride  to  Rochester  was  like  waiting  behind 
the  scenes  for  the  first  cue  of  one's  initial  play. 
We  could  not  read,  we  could  not  talk,  we  stared 
at  each  other,  and  secretly  wondered  whether 
or  not  our  friends  were  right  in  thinking  us 
utter  idiots.  The  train  slowed  down  and 
stopped : 

"Here  we  are,"  I  said. 

ii 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Yes  —  here  we  are,"  said  Margaret.  She  got 
up,  and  suddenly  her  eyes  blazed  with  excite- 
ment. "It's  going  to  be  a  real  honeymoon!" 

"I  think  it  is,"  I  said. 

We  got  out  of  the  Pullman,  made  our  way 
through  the  beautiful  tapestry  brick  station,  and 
into  the  sun-drenched  street.  It  was  a  rather 
bedraggled  street,  a  rather  uncommunicative 
street.  We  blinked  at  it  and  its  sprawling  shops ; 
we  blinked  at  each  other.  We  were  close  to 
panic.  We  had  not  the  remotest  idea  what  to 
do.  Our  education  had  never  included  a  like 
situation.  Taxis  and  cabs  were  barred.  Hotels 
were  henceforth  an  unthinkable  luxury. 

"Let's  get  on  a  trolley,"  said  Margaret, 
saver  of  situations.  A  street-car  with  unknown 
insignia  wound  its  way  out  of  the  traffic,  and 
came  to  a  halt  before  us.  To  escape  the  agony 
of  indecision  we  boarded  it.  It  took  us  far  out 
through  the  western  portions  of  the  city,  and 
ultimately  into  the  country.  I  drew  a  sheet  of 

12 


The  Groom's  Story 

paper  from  my  pocket  and  roughly  sketched 
the  route  that  we  followed.  We  went  to  the  end 
of  the  line  and  returned  —  rather  to  the  astort- 
ishment  of  the  conductor.  Dismounting  at  the 
station,  we  boarded  a  car  going  toward  the  east 
and  repeated  the  experiment.  So  we  envisaged 
our  battlefield.  We  looked  and  looked  in  vain 
for  a  poor  quarter  such  as  we  had  known  in 
other  cities.  And  we  made  an  amazing  discov- 
ery, which  later  we  verified  to  the  full. 

There  are  no  slums  in  Rochester ! 

There  are  no  tenements  in  Rochester  with  the 
exception  of  one  street.  It  is  a  city  as  clean,  as 
orderly,  as  spacious  as  Washington,  yet  with 
none  of  the  alleys  and  hovels  which  disgrace 
the  capital.  It  is  infinitely  astonishing  to  wan- 
der through  a  great  city  and  find  no  trace  of 
reeking  alleys,  crowding  tenements,  doorways 
abutting  on  the  sidewalk  with  drunken  stair- 
ways leading  to  dim,  plaster-wounded  mysteries 
beyond.  There  are  plenty  of  poor  in  Rochester, 
but  the  majority  live  like  civilized  beings,  each 

13 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

in  a  little  single  home  with  a  tiny  plot  of  green 
about  it.  Only  the  lodging-houses  approach 
the  tenement  plan  in  any  respect,  and  these 
are  scattered  about  the  entire  city,  and  never 
converge  into  one  district. 

Rochester,  with  its  quarter  of  a  million  peo- 
ple, its  one  hundred  different  industries,  its 
amazing  commercial  activity,  forever  gives  the 
lie  to  the  axiom  that  poverty  necessarily  means 
crowded  living.  It  gives  the  lie  to  the  axiom 
that  it  is  impossible  to  legislate  benefactions. 
Building  restrictions,  civic  foresight,  a  practical 
idealism  behind  the  words  "Garden  City,"  have 
combined  to  rescue  this  astonishing  munici- 
pality from  the  curse  of  slums. 

We  returned  to  the  station  at  last,  greatly 
impressed  with  our  environment  (the  street- 
lamps  would  have  rejoiced  the  Greeks),  a  little 
surer  of  our  welcome,  but  still  very  uncertain 
what  to  do.  It  was  all  so  new  and  strange.  We 
felt  that  we  waited  on  the  verge  of  great  dis- 
coveries. Yet  we  had  no  idea  how  to  proceed. 


The  Groom's  Story 

In  this  predicament  we  encountered  a  saving 
institution  —  and  we  made  a  friend.  We  saw 
a  sign  in  the  station,  "Travelers'  Aid,"  and 
approached  inquiringly.  A  sweet-faced  woman 
greeted  us.  We  told  our  story  —  the  book- 
keeper story  —  and  waited  almost  with  trem- 
bling for  her  denunciation. 

"You  poor  dear,"  she  took  Margaret's  hands. 
She  turned  to  me. 

"You  look  strong.  I'm  sure  you  can  find 
something  to  do." 

She  tore  a  leaf  from  her  notebook  and  began 
to  write. 

"Here  are  the  addresses  of  two  factory  fore- 
men I  know;  go  and  see  them  and  tell  them 
I  sent  you."  She  thrust  the  paper  into  my 
hand. 

"And  —  yes  —  wait  a  minute.  I  '11  telephone 
to  a  friend,  and  see  if  she  will  take  you  to 
board."  She  went  with  a  smile  to  the  booth  at 
the  far  end  of  the  station. 

We  faced  each  other  in  amazement.  Roches- 

15 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

ter  had  welcomed  us  and  already  was  endeavor- 
ing to  find  us  work  and  a  home !  We  settled  a 
little  more  easily  into  our  new  roles.  Yet  we 
were  not  altogether  at  home.  It  was  like  diving 
into  deep  water  and  groping  with  one's  hands 
among  the  misty  stones  that  line  the  bottom  of 
the  pool. 

We  were  to  find  that  our  story  was  always 
accepted  without  question  as  in  this,  the  first 
telling  of  it.  We  were  universally  received  as 
a  homeless,  jobless  couple.  Margaret's  desire 
to  work  was  always  regarded  as  genuine.  Any 
ideas  that  we  or  our  friends  may  have  enter- 
tained as  to  a  certain  quality  of  distinction  in 
our  bearing,  that  might  perhaps  be  difficult  to 
hide  —  such  ideas  collapsed  with  alarming  sud- 
denness.  We  were  from  this  time  on  nobodies, 
without  standing,  without  influence,  without 
dignity,  save  that  which  accrues  to  any  self- 
respecting  tramp.  We  had  no  position  to  con- 
serve. We  had  no  appearances  to  maintain. 
We  came,  at  last,  fairly  to  revel  in  the  immeas- 

16 


The  Groom's  Story 

urable  freedom  of  our  position.  We  had  no 
obligations  whatsoever,  except  those  that  we 
owed  to  all  society  and  to  ourselves.  We  came 
and  went  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  well 
or  ill  clad,  in  the  blaze  of  the  arc  lights  or  at 
high  noon,  and  no  sense  of  shame  to  say  us  nay ! 
In  some  respects  it  was  like  stepping  out  of 
prison. 

Miss  Welborn  came  back  to  us  with  more 
addresses  —  the  friend  unfortunately  could  not 
take  us  in  until  later.  We  thanked  her,  and 
came  away  deeply  grateful  for  the  "Travelers* 
Aid." 

We  walked  uncounted  miles  that  first  after- 
noon following  all  manner  of  impulses,  as  well 
as  the  addresses  which  Miss  Welborn  had  given 
us.  We  were  introduced  to  "light-housekeep- 
ing" rooms,  and  knew,  even  as  we  were  intro- 
duced, that  here  lay  our  destiny.  We  walked 
mainly  through  the  foreign  district  —  Jewish 
and  Italian. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  house  that  we 

17 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

entered.  An  old  gray-haired  woman,  dirty  and 
disheveled,  answered  our  knock. 

"We  are  looking  for  rooms,"  I  said. 

She  peered  at  us  suspiciously,  then  with  ap- 
parent reluctance  gave  way  before  our  entrance 
into  the  dingy  hall.  There  rushed  to  greet  us 
that  faint,  stuffy,  sourish  smell  that  every 
house,  under  a  certain  minimum  of  income, 
seems  to  possess.  The  floor  was  bare,  and  an 
uncarpeted  stairway  led  abruptly  into  an  en- 
veloping dimness  above. 

"I'm  filled  up,"  said  the  woman. 

"You've  a  card  in  your  window." 

"Well,  you  see,  I'm  sort  of  carrying  a  lady 
along.  She's  got  rheumatism.  She  ain't  paid 
her  rent  for  six  weeks  —  but  I  hate  to  turn  her 
out.  Yet,  of  course,  this  ain't  no  charity 
bazaar  I'm  runnin'.  Would  you  like  to  look 
at  her  room?" 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Margaret. 

"Yes,"  said  I ;  and  as  the  poor  old  dame  shuf- 
fled her  way  upstairs  I  made  it  plain  that  we 

18 


The  Groom's  Story 

did  not  propose  to  take,  we  only  proposed  to 
look.  The  rheumatic  one  was  out,  and  we  were 
ushered  into  her  apartment.  It  was  a  chaos  of 
dishevelment.  Scraps  of  food,  underwear,  news- 
papers, battered  crockery  swarmed  before  us. 
The  place  was  thick  with  flies.  The  landlady 
simply  held  the  door  open,  making  no  comment 
whatsoever.  She  had  evidently  passed  beyond 
the  age  of  salesmanship. 

"How  much?"  I  said. 

"Three  dollars." 

If  you  will  believe  it,  I  did  not  know  whether 
she  meant  three  dollars  a  day  or  three  dollars 
a  week!  Margaret  still  swears  that  she  knew 
immediately,  but  this  is  a  point  that  we  have 
never  quite  settled. 

"We  are  strangers  in  town  and  we're  looking 
around  for  rooms.  We  want  to  do  our  own 
cooking.  Of  course,  we  want  to  see  one  or  two 
places  before  we  decide." 

"Sure,"  said  our  hostess.  "What  do  you 
do?" 

19 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

I  looked  up  inquiringly;  then  it  flashed  upon 
me  that  of  course  she  meant  my  job. 

"I'm  a  bookkeeper,"  I  said. 

"Oh"  — 

There  was  a  certain  scorn  in  her  voice  as 
she  turned  to  Margaret. 

"You're  workin',  too,  lady,  ain't  you?" 
Evidently  she  did  not  put  her  trust  in  book- 
keepers. 

"Yes,"  said  Margaret,  somewhat  stunned. 
"Yes;  that  is,  I'm  looking  for  work." 
•'  "Where  you  from?"   She  looked  Margaret 
up  and  down. 

"Boston." 

"Oh! — I  might'  a'  known  it.  That's  what 
makes  you  talk  so  queer!" 

We  were  to  find  that  "Boston"  always  ex- 
plained our  accent.  It  was  a  complete  defense  in 
any  inquiry  as  to  our  articulation. 

Meanwhile  the  horror  of  that  room  gained 
upon  us.  A  loosened  blind  began  to  flap  wearily 
against  the  single  unscreened  window. 

20 


The  Groom's  Story 

"We  want  to  look  a  little  further  before  we 
decide,"  I  reiterated. 

The  landlady  appeared  relieved. 

"I'd  hate  to  turn  the  lady  out.  She's  so 
lonesome  .  .  .  has  n't  got  a  single  relative  living. 
Still,  I  don't  believe  she'll  ever  pay  me  that 
eighteen  dollars."  .  .  . 

We  left  the  poor  soul  mumbling,  more  to 
herself  than  to  us,  the  alternative  satisfactions 
of  doing  a  kindness  and  of  collecting  eighteen 
dollars. 

The  street,  with  its  double  line  of  trees,  was 
like  a  breath  of  paradise.  The  visit  had  taught 
us  one  thing,  very  clearly,  however.  We  need 
have  no  tremors  as  to  the  adequacy  of  our 
disguise.  The  simple  fact  of  our  asking  for 
rooms  on  this  income  level  was  evidence  enough 
that  we  had  probably  never  known  anything 
better. 

We  invaded  many  houses  with  a  growing 
assurance.  In  one  place,  the  only  person  who 
could  speak  English  was  a  boy  ill  in  bed  reading 

21 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Ivanhoe."  In  another  we  were  offered  a  room 
which  served  as  a  highway  between  the  front 
hall  and  the  kitchen.  We  began  to  hear  rumors 
of  other  than  human  inhabitants.  Once  or 
twice  a  suspicious  eye  and  nose  appeared  be- 
hind a  crack  in  the  door  in  answer  to  our  ring, 
and  when  we  voiced  our  errand,  the  door  was 
slammed  to,  in  our  astonished  faces.  One  bland 
party  admitted  us  and  then  openly  hinted  that 
all  was  not  as  it  should  be  between  us.  Most 
of  the  rooms  we  saw  were  incredibly  dirty,  and 
littered  with  all  manner  of  unappetizing  frag- 
ments. As  night  drew  on,  we  abandoned  our 
search  for  furnished  "housekeeping"  rooms. 
Frankly,  we  did  not  dare  accept  one  without 
more  knowledge. 

THE    BOARDING-HOUSE 

We  made  our  way  to  one  of  Miss  Welborn's 
boarding-houses  addresses,  and  after  a  rather 
critical  inspection  on  the  part  of  the  landlady 
we  were  admitted  to  the  only  vacant  room  the 

22 


The  Groom's  Story 

house  afforded  —  a  little  attic  room,  hot  as 
only  an  attic  room  can  be  in  August. 

"It's  clean,"  said  Margaret,  after  a  careful 
scrutiny.  That  decided  us.  I  went  to  the  sta- 
tion for  the  bags,  and  we  told  the  landlady 
that  we  should  stay  for  a  day  or  two.  We  stayed 
for  two  weeks  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Pending 
"light-housekeeping"  we  made  this  our  head- 
quarters from  which  our  first  forages  for  work 
were  conducted. 

The  house  was  of  brick,  well  built,  and  faced 
a  sunny  square  where  the  children  played  and 
the  jobless  dozed  on  the  benches.  The  park 
bench  is  more  or  less  of  a  barometer  of  unem- 
ployment, and  it  is  significant  that  all  the  time 
we  lived  at  West's  boarding-house,  the  benches 
were  crowded  to  overflowing. 

Mrs.  West,  our  landlady,  was  a  pleasant 
woman  and  an  indefatigable  foe  of  dirt.  Her 
boarders  were  largely  moving-picture  people, 
together  with  a  trainman,  and  a  drummer  or 
two.  The  most  interesting  character  of  the 

23 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

household  was  Harry  —  a  man  of  forty,  who 
washed  the  dishes,  helped  with  the  laundry, 
ran  errands,  marketed,  carried  slops,  made 
beds,  scrubbed  floors,  washed  windows,  in  fact 
slaved  for  fourteen  hours  a  day  at  every  known 
domestic  task,  and  for  it  received  the  princely 
sum  of  one  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  and 
sometimes  two  dollars  per  week! 

We  excited  no  comment  among  our  neigh- 
bors. We  told  our  story,  but  it  was  too  old  a 
story  to  deserve  great  attention.  They  were 
kind,  but  had  few  suggestions  to  offer.  They 
said  that  it  was  difficult  to  secure  work  —  that 
was  all.  It  is  peculiar  how  unemployment,  like 
some  distant  thunder-cloud,  began  to  obscure 
our  horizon  even  before  we  had  found  a  place 
to  sleep. 

West's  proved  for  us  an  excellent  stepping- 
stone  in  the  development  of  our  plan.  Had  we 
gone  immediately  into  our  ultimate  quarters, 
perhaps  the  change  would  have  been  almost  too 
violent.  At  West's  we  had  a  genuinely  clean 

24 


The  Groom's  Story 

room  and  tolerable  surroundings.  True,  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  get  a  bath,  and  our  room 
was  shabby  and  often  unbearably  hot,  but  on 
the  whole  we  found  ourselves  among  the  aris- 
tocracy of  the  working  class.  We  paid  nine 
dollars  and  a  half  a  week  for  our  room,  includ- 
ing breakfast  and  supper  for  both  of  us.  This 
was  not  cheap,  perhaps,  but  it  was  at  least  a 
tremendous  drop  from  a  ten-dollar-a-day  hotel. 
It  is  strange  how  quickly  we  adjusted  ourselves 
to  our  new  position  in  society.  Almost  auto- 
matically we  began  to  restrict  expenses.  I  re- 
member hovering  before  the  window  of  a  con- 
fectioner, seriously  debating  whether  or  not  I 
should  expend  five  cents  for  some  very  delicious 
molasses  candy  that  was  on  exhibition. 

LIGHT   HOUSEKEEPING 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  we  moved  to  "light- 
housekeeping"  quarters.  Margaret  had  found 
a  landlady  whom  she  felt  that  she  could  trust. 
Our  room  was  in  an  ancient  rookery  of  a  build- 

25 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

ing  in  the  poorer  quarter  of  the  city.  One 
entered  through  a  battered  porch,  pushed  out 
along  a  dark  and  narrow  hallway,  and  turned 
a  door  to  the  left.  It  gave  on  a  small  dark 
room,  perhaps  twelve  feet  square,  with  two 
windows  fronting  a  brick  wall.  Only  at  noon 
did  one  feeble  ray  of  sunshine  gild  the  sash  for 
a  moment.  One  had  to  light  the  gas  if  one 
wished  to  read  during  the  day.  In  a  corner 
was  a  bed,  and  beside  it  a  bureau.  In  the  op- 
posite comer  a  gas  cooking-plate  rested  upon  a 
commode,  the  under  sections  of  which  were 
filled  with  a  forlorn  battery  of  cooking-utensils. 
A  questionable  curtain  hid  a  row  of  nails  and 
served  as  a  closet.  The  partition  between  the 
wall  and  the  next  room  was  largely  a  home- 
made product,  whose  crazy  architecture  some 
greasy  papers  strove  to  hide.  A  pair  of  ex- 
traordinarily dirty  net  curtains  hung  in  the 
windows,  and  there  was  a  general  ever-present 
air  of  dilapidated  drapery. 
This  room,  however,  was  clean  in  comparison 

26 


The  Groom's  Story 

with  most  of  the  others  that  we  had  inspected. 
There  was  no  one  place  that  could  be  called 
unclean:  rather  it  mouldered;  dirt  had  grown 
into  it  like  lichens  into  a  cliff. 

We  felt  that  here  at  last  we  had  reached  the 
economic  bedrock.  We  paid  three  dollars  a 
week  for  that  room  with  gas  included.  Usually 
the  "light  housekeeper"  must  feed  an  inex- 
orable quarter  meter.  It  is  difficult  for  two 
people  to  find  anything  much  cheaper  than 
that. 

In  this  house  we  were  to  live  for  over  six 
weeks.  In  this  room  we  were  to  sleep,  cook  our 
food,  eat,  read,  write,  and  live  —  when  we  were 
not  out  of  doors,  or  at  work.  Here  we  were  to 
wage  our  memorable  battles  against  dirt.  Here 
we  were  to  fetch  our  water  from  the  bathroom 
on  the  floor  above,  carry  out  our  waste,  and 
do  our  own  laundry  in  the  dank,  rat-infested 
cellar  below.  This  was  our  home. 

Our  first  step  was  to  take  every  piece  of 
drapery,  including  the  window  curtains,  out  of 

27 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

the  room.  Our  next  step  was  to  substitute  our 
own  camping  blankets  for  the  very  doubtful 
bed  coverings.  Finally  we  gave  the  entire 
apartment,  including  the  walls  and  the  furni- 
ture, a  bath  in  powerful  disinfectant.  We  toiled 
equally  at  this  task,  and  my  knowledge  of 
housekeeping  began  to  increase.  For  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  began  to  find  out  what  taking 
care  of  one's  self  implies. 

Our  landlady  watched  these  activities  with 
suspicion.  I  did  not  blame  her.  She  had 
grounds,  I  thought,  for  being  genuinely  in- 
sulted. I  intimated  as  much  to  Margaret,  but 
that  indefatigable  lady  was  brandishing  soapy 
cloths  along  the  picture  moulding,  and  would 
not  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  me.  But  we 
set  ourselves  to  conciliate  our  hostess,  and  in 
the  end  she  became  one  of  the  truest  friends  we 
ever  made. 

To  begin  with  she  was  a  dear.  She  was  young 
and  rather  pretty,  and  had  a  smile  that  warmed. 
By  nature  she  was  refined,  gentle,  lovable,  but 

28 


The  Groom's  Story 

her  work  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  her. 
Little  hard  lines  would  show  themselves  oc- 
casionally at  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  She  had 
been  a  school  teacher,  and  was  the  daughter 
of  a  clergyman.  She  had  married  fairly  well, 
and  then  suddenly  her  husband  had  died  on 
the  street  of  heart  failure,  leaving  her  with 
exactly  fifteen  cents  in  her  purse  and  a  year- 
old  baby  to  care  for!  Almost  her  first  words 
to  me  were :  — 

"Mr.  Chase,  I  hope  you  have  some  life  in- 


surance." 


In  some  way  she  had  scraped  together  the 
necessary  capital  to  undertake  this  lodging- 
house  venture,  and  she  was  making  a  stirring 
fight  to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  and  to 
provide  for  the  future  of  her  child. 

Our  neighbors  were  varied.  In  the  front 
room,  for  the  first  week  of  our  stay,  there  lived 
a  minister,  his  wife,  and  two  children!  Four 
people  in  one  small  room,  cooking  their  own 
meals,  eating  and  sleeping  there!  Apparently 

29 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

the  immigrant  is  not  the  only  class  that  is  con- 
fronted with  a  housing  problem. 

Across  the  hall  lived  a  carpenter  and  his  wife. 
She  was  dying  of  "Bright's  disease,"  and  also, 
according  to  the  landlady,  was  slowly  starving. 
The  man  was  of  good  habits,  but  he  only 
averaged  one  day  of  work  in  the  week  due  to 
the  dull  times  in  the  building  trade.  He  could 
not  afford  to  buy  his  wife  the  good  food  that 
her  condition  demanded.  While  we  were  there, 
their  baby  died,  and  the  man  being  away,  it 
was  my  duty  to  make  the  arrangements  with 
the  undertaker.  It  took  their  last  penny,  I 
imagine,  to  dress  the  poor  little  body  for  the 
funeral.  They  kept  falling  behind  in  the  rent, 
and  finally  left  one  day,  to  drift  on  to  some 
even  more  wretched  and  inhospitable  quarters. 

Drifting,  drifting,  drifting,  —  lives  came  and 
went  before  us  like  phantom  ships  in  the  night, 
drifting  in  from  nowhere,  drifting  out  into 
oblivion. 

A  workman  lived  above  us  with  his  wife  and 

30 


The  Groom's  Story 

two  children.  Her  mind  was  failing,  and  she 
was  not  really  fit  to  care  for  her  children.  As 
a  result  the  older  child  roamed  through  the 
alleys  and  explored  garbage  cans  much  at  his 
own  free  will.  What  was  worse,  everybody  dis- 
trusted and  hated  him.  He  was  an  incredibly 
dirty  little  wretch,  to  be  sure,  but  it  was  not 
fair  to  load  such  a  burden  of  hate  upon  his 
thin,  five-year-old  shoulders.  With  a  moron 
for  a  mother,  and  a  father  away  all  day,  what 
is  a  little  boy  to  do  ?  We  tried  to  make  friends 
with  him,  but  it  was  very  difficult.  He  was  like 
a  savage.  We  tried  to  induce  the  father  to  send 
him  to  kindergarten,  but  up  to  the  time  we 
left  we  were  not  successful.  It  would  have 
been  better  for  Johnny  Showitz  had  he  never 
been  born.  If  you  surprised  him  at  his  play,  he 
would  throw  his  arms  over  his  head  as  if  some- 
body were  going  to  strike  him. 

An  old  farmer  had  a  room  for  a  time.  He 
gave  me  the  impression  in  my  first  talk  with 
him  of  having  retired  from  active  life,  his  old 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

age  being  provided  for.  This  was  only  his 
pride.  Later  I  found  that  he  was  trying  des- 
perately to  secure  work,  and  that  his  meager 
savings  were  almost  gone. 

We  were  raided  by  the  police  one  night.  A 
woman  of  very  doubtful  reputation  had  come 
to  the  house.  At  two  in  the  morning  a  cab 
driver  beat  on  the  door  and  demanded  to  see 
this  lady,  saying  that  she  owed  him  some  money 
for  cab  fares.  She  bolted  herself  in  her  room. 
The  driver  went  away  and  presently  returned 
with  two  policemen.  A  crowd  gathered  ex- 
pectantly. There  was  an  inquiring  crack  in 
every  lodger's  door.  The  policemen  advanced 
to  the  attack.  They  made  a  hideous  racket,  but 
they  could  not  force  the  door.  Then  they 
climbed  onto  the  roof  of  the  porch,  but  this 
move,  too,  proved  unsuccessful.  The  law  was 
in  a  quandary.  The  crowd  jeered.  Finally  the 
landlady,  by  sheer  force  of  character,  brought 
the  hunted  one  to  terms.  The  latter  unlocked 
her  door  and  gave  a  note  to  the  driver.  Before 

32 


The  Groom's  Story 

daylight  we  heard  her  creep  down  the  stairs 
and  leave  for  good  and  all,  but  she  left  her  rent 
money. 

More  often  than  not,  we  made  friends  among 
our  neighbors.  We  met  them  upon  a  plane  of 
perfect  equality.  We  told  our  story.  Invariably 
we  were  met  with  sympathy,  and  sincere  wishes 
for  better  fortune.  And  often  they  told  their 
stories  to  us — stories  that  made  the  heart  ache. 
The  bitter  sieges  of  unemployment,  the  wander- 
ings, the  illnesses,  the  accidents,  the  sorrowings, 
the  partings,  and  the  deaths  —  all  told  with  an 
almost  unbelievable  matter-of-factness. 

I  sat  down  beside  an  old  man  on  a  park  bench 
one  evening.  He  was  reading  the  remains  of  a 
newspaper  under  the  flickering  glare  of  an  arc 
light.  He  let  his  paper  slip  to  the  ground  and 
began  to  talk.  In  the  course  of  our  conversation 
I  asked  him  where  he  lived. 

"Wherever  I  hang  my  hat  is  my  home.  I'm 
partially  paralyzed,  and  nobody  wants  me  now. 
I  used  to  be  a  hack  driver,  but  I  worked  so 

33 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

many  nights  washing  carriages  that  —  well  — 
finally  I  could  n't  work  any  more.  My  wife  died 

-  just  as  well,  I  guess  —  and  this  is  all  there  is 
left  of  me!"  He  talked  in  a  dull,  beaten  mono- 
tone —  the  very  dregs  of  a  man  from  which  life 
had  squeezed  the  heart  and  soul. 

What  justice  in  a  world  that  throws  its  citi- 
zens, aged  and  paralyzed,  upon  park  benches 
after  demanding  their  manhood  in  a  long  life  of 
ceaseless  work  ?  He  never  asked  me  for  help  of 
any  kind,  but  I  sent  him  to  the  United  Charities 
—  an  institution  of  which  he  had  never  heard. 

We  had  a  little  Jewess  to  dine  with  us  one 
night.  We  had  creamed  bloater  and  toast  and 
chocolate,  I  remember,  and  altogether  a  very 
gay  time,  and  yet  when  we  asked  her  of  her 
friends  she  said,  "I  liked  Jack  best  —  gee,  I 
could  have  learned  to  love  Jack;  only  a  guy  got 
him  drunk  one  night,  —  he  never  used  to  drink 
himself,  —  and  then  he  accused  Jack  of  stealing 
his  watch,  and  Jack  shot  at  the  guy,  and  now  I 
guess  I'll  never  see  him  again.  He'll  get  ten 

34 


The  Groom's  Story 

years,  at  least.  He  was  only  a  boy;  sort  of  ro- 
mantic, you  know.  He  never  meant  harm  to 
nobody,  and  —  well  —  he  was  the  whitest 
friend  I  ever  had — " 

Tragedy  laid  on  tragedy,  yet  all  in  the  day's 
work !  We  learned  what  it  meant  to  live  as  the 
average  American  lives  on  its  income  of  six 
hundred  dollars  a  year.  We  learned,  as  no  book 
could  ever  teach  us,  of  the  deadly  uncertainty 
of  life  at  that  income  level.  We  became  acutely 
aware  of  the  temptations,  crimes,  abysses  that 
wait  just  around  the  corner  of  that  life.  And 
the  marvel  to  us  was,  and  is,  not,  Why  do  the 
poor  so  often  go  wrong  ?  but,  Why  do  they  not 
more  often  go  wrong  ? 

So  long  as  there  is  steadiness  of  employment, 
there  is  at  least  some  continuity  and  some  hope 
in  existence.  But  we  found  so  many  cases 
where  there  was  no  steadiness  of  employment 
—  and  so  pitifully  often  it  was  "laid  off"  rather 
than  "fired/'  Work  did  not  hold,  the  slender 
savings  were  eaten  up,  the  wandering  search 

35 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

went  on  and  on,  a  child  went  wrong,  a  wife 
sickened  and  died  —  over  and  over  again,  the 
same  dreary,  depressing  story. 

And  yet,  under  the  tragedy  moved  a  deep, 
vibrant  current  of  good-will,  and  sympathy, 
and  kindness.  I  have  seen  more  human  cruelty 
in  a  single  club  dance  at  home  than  I  saw  all  the 
time  that  we  lived  in  Rochester.  We  would  go 
out  upon  our  poor  little  apology  for  a  porch  and 
talk  for  hours  with  the  neighbors.  There  was  a 
man  named  Bohm  whose  conversation  used  to 
amaze  us.  He  was  going  to  the  dogs  by  the 
alcohol  route,  but  how  he  could  talk !  —  philos- 
ophy, history,  government,  religion,  smoking  a 
battered,  reeking  brier  pipe  the  while  and  trying 
to  keep  his  telltale  hands  from  twitching.  He 
was  not  talking  for  effect,  he  was  simply  a 
starved  soul  who  used  us  as  a  safety  valve  for 
the  chaos  of  thoughts  that  were  put  within  him. 
Most  often,  however,  the  conversation  ran 
along  intensely  personal  lines  —  work,  children, 
friends,  troubles. 


The  Groom's  Story 

It  is  amazing  the  friendly  help  that  the  poor 
give  one  another.  They  assume  one  anothers' 
burdens  quite  as  a  matter  of  course.  We  found 
no  trace  of  that  narrow  aloofness  that  pervades 
the  suburbanite  class.  If  the  landlady  were 
away,  a  boarder  was  always  at  great  pains  to 
answer  the  bell,  and  to  exhibit  apartments.  If  a 
small  child  were  to  be  left  alone  for  a  time,  some 
neighbor  would  be  always  glad  to  take  charge  of 
him.  If  one  lacked  a  quarter  for  his  gas  meter,  a 
general  call  for  help,  sounded  from  the  front 
hall,  would  invariably  secure  the  needed  coin. 
We  never  felt  lonely,  we  never  felt  aloof.  There 
is  a  vast  capacity  for  companionship  and  sym- 
pathy in  the  soul  of  the  Average  Citizen  as  we 
found  him. 

These  people  —  our  friends  —  are  not  natu- 
rally depraved.  They  are  not  hereditary  bums 
and  loafers.  They  are  our  human  brothers  and 
sisters  with  potentialities  as  great  if  not  greater 
than  our  own.  Only  they  have  never  had  a 
chance.  They  have  never  had  reasonable  op- 

37 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

portunity.  They  have  been  dealt  marked  cards. 
Three  masters  tend  to  dominate  them:  Food, 
Shelter,  and  Clothing  mark  the  end  of  all  their 
striving.  At  the  income  level  of  the  Average 
American  all  expenditures  for  advancement,  for 
art,  music,  real  recreation,  leisure,  study,  are 
practically  precluded.  There  is  little  possibility 
of  achieving  those  things  which  to  some  of  us 
make  life  really  worth  the  living.  Mankind 
cannot  progress  unless  it  has  access  to  those 
things.  Civilization  is  a  farce  until  the  Average 
Citizen  has  the  economic  power  to  pause  for  a 
few  moments  in  his  toil,  and  to  question  the  end 
of  his  toiling.  "Democracy,"  "Equality," 
"Liberty"  -all  windy  and  desolate  words 
until  the  Average  Family  can  raise  its  eyes  and 
look  beyond  the  wolf  that  snarls  at  the  door. 

As  the  weeks  went  by  we  began  to  make  im- 
portant discoveries  as  to  ourselves  and  our 
surroundings. 

First  of  all  we  learned  what  it  means  to  fight 
dirt.  The  struggle  to  keep  clean  in  a  house  like 

38 


The  Groom's  Story 

ours,  or  in  the  average  tenement,  particularly  if 
the  building  is  old,  is  a  strenuous  and  finally 
overwhelming  one.  Of  this  there  is  not  the  least 
doubt  in  our  minds.  One's  standards  collapse. 
They  must.  We  found  it  a  question  of  either 
staying  at  home  and  cleaning  all  day  and  (in  the 
case  of  the  Average  Citizen)  starving;  or  of 
working  out,  and  benumbing  one's  self  to  dirt  at 
home.  There  is  no  compromise.  It  is  quite  im- 
possible to  maintain  a  decent  standard  of  clean- 
liness in  a  dwelling  that  many  other  poor  people 
use.  No  matter  how  indefatigably  one  may 
sweep  one's  own  apartments,  the  dirt  that  drifts 
in  from  the  hallways,  the  littered  alleys,  the 
close-lying  streets,  the  march  of  one's  neighbors 
and  their  inquiring  children,  all  combine  to 
furnish  an  invading  army  against  which  no 
defense  is  adequate. 

We  could  not  keep  clean!  Had  we  lived  on  in 
our  lodgings  much  longer  we  should  have  be- 
come as  benumbed  to  dirt  and  malodorousness 
as  those  about  us,  purely  as  a  matter  of  self- 

39 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

defense.  We  came  to  understand  why  certain 
veteran  tenement  dwellers  prefer  coal  to  water 
in  their  bathtubs. 

We  had  planned  originally  to  spend  our  eve- 
nings reading  or  writing  in  our  lodgings.  For  a 
week  we  clung  to  this  programme,  and  then  — 
suddenly  we  were  aware  of  huge  unseen  forces 
conspiring  to  hurl  us  out  where  there  was  color, 
and  light,  and  cheerfulness. 

"Good  Lord,"  said  Margaret  one  night, 
dropping  "Fanny's  First  Play"  with  a  bang  on 
the  floor  (and  we  are  very  fond  of  Shaw)  — 
let 's  get  out  of  this.  I  'm  suffocating.  Let 's  go 
to  the  movies." 

We  went  to  the  movies.  We  gulped  them 
down.  The  little  hall  was  packed  with  Italians, 
and  ten  times  as  suffocating  as  our  room,  but 
we  did  not  notice  it.  The  pictures  thrilled  us  - 
the  drunken  lights,  the  tin-pan  piano,  the  al- 
ternate roars  of  applause  and  of  horror  from 
the  eager  childlike  audience  only  heightened 
the  effect.  The  tawdriness,  the  vulgarity,  the 

40 


The  Groom's  Story 

smells,  all  were  lost  and  forgotten  before  the 
gigantic  fact  that  color  still  shone  in  the  world 
—  that  the  everlasting  gray  of  our  lodging- 
house  had  not  submerged  the  universe ! 

Time  and  again  this  happened  to  us.  A  hound 
of  desire  would  seize  us  and  fairly  fling  us  out  of 
our  dinginess  into  some  place  where  there  was 
color  and  contrast  again.  It  smote  us  as  desire 
must  smite  a  drunkard.  I  had  never  been  to  the 
movies  on  my  own  initiative  before  going  to 
Rochester.  I  have  seldom  been  to  them  since 
my  return.  And  yet  wild  horses  could  not  have 
kept  me  away  from  them  there.  I  slapped  down 
my  nickel  with  my  heart  surging  as  it  did  long 
ago  at  circus  time,  and  thrust  my  way  in  be- 
tween a  fat  Polish  lady  and  an  Italian  laborer 
who  had  had  garlic  for  his  dinner,  to  sit  rapt, 
entranced  for  hours ! 

Then  there  were  the  parks.  I  had  always 
tended  to  be  rather  patronizing  when  it  came  to 
public  parks.  I  held  them  estimable  enough, 
perhaps,  but  common.  Never  before  had  we 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

glimpsed  the  tremendous  outlet  that  public 
parks  provide  for  thwarted  city  populations.  It 
seemed  as  if  we  could  not  wait  until  Sunday 
came  that  we  might  pack  our  lunch  into  a  shoe 
box  and  invade  Seneca,  or  Highland,  or  South 
Park.  We  explored  them  from  end  to  end.  We 
reveled  in  them.  They  were  like  bars  of  sunlight 
laid  athwart  a  prison  floor. 

The  municipal  baths,  too,  we  used  constantly 
and  gratefully.  It  was  impossible  to  get  an  ade- 
quate bath  in  our  lodging.  There  was  no  hot 
water  except  a  small  ceremonial  amount  on 
Saturday  night,  and  that,  owing  to  strenuous 
competition,  was  almost  immediately  ex- 
hausted. I  gave  up  trying,  but  Margaret  forged 
aloft  one  Saturday  night  with  high  hopes  and  a 
clean  towel,  only  to  return  almost  immediately 
with  a  look  of  frozen  horror  upon  her  face.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  persuade  her  to  tell  me 
the  details. 

We  made  a  point  of  attending  all  free  con- 
ceits, free  lectures,  and  free  exhibitions  that 

42 


The  Groom's  Story 

were  announced  in  the  papers.  We  found  that 
by  means  of  vigilance,  application,  —  and  some 
personal  discomfort,  to  be  sure,  —  we  could 
secure  a  considerable  amount  of  cultural  enjoy- 
ment for  an  astonishingly  moderate  outlay  of 
cash.  This  led  us  to  make  computations. 

We  finally  decided  that  for  twenty-five  dol- 
lars a  week  a  young  couple  could  live  happily, 
healthily,  progressively,  by  taking  advantage  of 
these  low-cost  educational  and  recreational  fa- 
cilities, and  by  utterly  abandoning  the  attempt 
to  keep  up  with  appearances.  As  we  were  liv- 
ing close  to  ten  dollars  a  week  at  this  time  our- 
selves, we  saw  what  could  be  done  backed  by  a 
steady  job  at  moderate  wages  with  wholesome, 
clean,  middle-class  quarters.  Under  this  figure 
(twenty-five  dollars),  however,  the  struggle 
must  become  increasingly  bitter  until  at  the 
ten-dollars-a-week  level,  the  three  masters, 
Food,  Shelter,  and  Clothing,  tend  to  become 
supreme.  Although  we  were  living  for  about 
ten  dollars  a  week,  we  were  buying  no  clothes 

43 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

for  ourselves  and  we  had  no  children  to  sup- 
port. 

When  one  considers  that  ten  dollars  a  week 
is  very  close  to  the  Average  Family  wage  for 
America .  .  . 

We  did  not  find  it  easy  to  live  for  this 
amount.  We  had  literally  to  count  every  cent 
that  we  expended.  A  nickel  assumed  the  pro- 
portions of  a  dollar  in  ordinary  intercourse. 
I  limited  myself  to  one  five-cent  bag  of  Bull 
Durham  tobacco  in  the  week.  We  went,  per- 
haps once  a  week,  to  the  movies.  It  cost  us 
twenty  cents  car  fare  to  visit  the  parks  on 
Sunday.  That  was  the  limit  of  our  expendi- 
tures for  recreation.  Everything  else  went  for 
rent,  food,  and  absolutely  necessary  car  fares. 
I  suppose,  all  told,  we  must  have  walked  some 
hundreds  of  miles  in  those  nine  weeks  simply 
to  save  car  fare.  One  day  by  actual  computa- 
tion I  walked  over  twenty  miles. 

Our  food  was  always  wholesome,  but  it  could 
hardly  be  called  varied.  We  always  breakfasted 

44 


The  Groom's  Story 

on  fruit  and  shredded  wheat  with  milk.  Cream 
was  an  unthinkable  luxury.  Melons,  bananas, 
and  occasionally  a  peach  or  a  pear  were  our 
staples  of  fruit  diet.  In  the  fall  we  had  apples. 
Lunch  we  usually  ate  at  a  boarding-house  where 
for  twenty  cents  we  had  a  nourishing  home- 
cooked  meal.  On  Sundays  there  were  chicken 
bones  and  watery  ice  cream,  and  it  cost  a  quar- 
ter! Our  suppers  were  cooked  at  home  on  the 
gas  plate,  and  usually  were  built  about  a  foun- 
dation of  toast  and  cocoa  —  sometimes  Camp- 
bell's soup  —  sometimes  tomatoes  and  rice,  or 
green  corn,  or  creamed  salt  fish.  They  cost  us 
about  ten  cents  apiece.  Margaret  was  vastly 
more  economical  than  I.  Some  ancient  thrift 
in  her  inheritance  surged  strongly  to  meet  this 
crisis.  You  see,  we  were  trying  to  live  on  what 
we  earned,  and  she  sought  desperately  to  suc- 
ceed. It  seemed  as  if  her  hand  was  always  on 
my  arm  as  I  reached  into  my  change  pocket. 
I  do  not  think  that  she  bought  a  piece  of  candy 
during  the  whole  time  we  were  there  —  and  she 

45 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

is  very  fond  of  candy!  It  was  always  I  that 
backslided.  I  used  to  buy  peanuts  furtively  and 
try  and  hide  the  munching  of  them  from  her, 
but  she  usually  unmasked  these  deceptions 
with  scorn.  And  I  shall  never  forget  one  terrible 
night  when  an  army  of  cockroaches  invaded  us, 
and  I  got  up  and  dressed  and  stormed  about 
the  room  and  told  Margaret  to  put  on  her  hat 
and  come  with  me  immediately  to  the  "  Seneca" 
(the  leading  hotel). 

"You  quitter!"  she  said,  and  turned  to  repel 
the  invasion. 

My  indignation  collapsed  in  the  face  of  her 
resolve  and  in  the  end  I  humbly  stuffed  rags 
in  the  wall  as  she  bade  me. 

UNEMPLOYMENT 

It  is  a  cold  October  morning  with  almost  a 
touch  of  winter  in  the  air.  It  is  barely  light  and 
the  sky  is  dull  and  heavy.  The  trolleys  have 
not  started  to  run  upon  the  street  along  which 
I  am  hurrying.  I  walk  briskly  for  two  reasons : 


The  Groom's  Story 

first,  I  am  cold,  and  secondly,  I  am  desperately 
afraid  that  others  will  reach  2407  Blank  Avenue 
before  me.  I  pass  unending  rows  of  small,  flat- 
roofed  shops.  There  are  very  few  people 
abroad.  A  milk  wagon  is  making  calls  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street. 

Suddenly  I  hear  the  steady  thud,  thud,  of 
footsteps  behind  me.  I  quicken  my  pace,  but 
the  footsteps  come  nearer  and  nearer.  Those 
footsteps  are  coming  for  my  job !  I  am  tempted 
to  run,  but  I  realize  that  that  would  be  cad- 
dish and  unfair.  I  look  around  cautiously.  A 
shabby  lad  —  half  boy,  half  man  —  is  coming 
up  behind  me  with  a  stern,  set  face.  I  stop  and 
wait  for  him. 

He  flings  a  glance  at  my  well-worn  suit  and 
battered  hat,  and  says :  — 

"It  looks  as  if  we  were  going  the  same  way, 
Bo!" 

He  slaps  the  morning  paper  in  his  pocket. 

I  smile,  for  in  my  pocket  also  rests  a  clip- 
ping cut  from  the  "Democrat  and  Chronicle" 

47 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

at  five  o'clock  that  morning,  "Wanted  —  Men 
to  help  in  a  bakery." 

We  walk  along  together  in  silence.  Suddenly 
about  two  blocks  ahead  of  us  we  see  a  little 
cloud  of  men  emerge  from  an  alleyway  and 
scatter  in  all  directions.  One  passes  us  upon  a 
bicycle,  but  says  nothing. 

We  both  know  perfectly  well  what  has  hap- 
pened, but  something  urges  us  on  to  the  end. 
We  turn  into  the  small  dark  alleyway.  It  leads 
to  a  dingy  wooden  door  set  in  the  side  of  a  low 
dirty  brick  building.  There  is  a  general  odor 
of  baking  and  yeast  in  the  air.  Upon  the  up- 
per part  of  the  door  is  tacked  a  sign,  scrawled 
hastily  in  a  large  unsteady  hand :  — 

NO  MORE  MEN  WANTED 
KEEP  OUT 

No  sound  whatsoever  comes  from  the  build- 
ing. A  few  drops  of  rain  begin  to  fall. 

My  companion  turns  on  his  heel  with  a  sound 
halfway  between  a  sob  and  a  curse. 

48 


The  Groom's  Story 

"That's  a  damn  long  walk  for  nothing,"  he 
says;  and  then,  more  slowly,  "I'd  a  hunch  I 
was  going  to  get  this  to-day  —  but  —  aw, 
what's  the  use!  It's  the  same  old  story  day 
after  day!"  His  face  sets,  hard  and  sullen. 

"How  far  have  you  walked?"  I  asked. 

"  From  Brighton  —  five  miles." 

A  clock  begins  to  toll  six. 

Upon  graduating  from  college  I  entered  my 
father's  accounting  office.  I  received  no  special 
favors,  but  I  was  the  "old  man's  son."  There 
was  no  evading  it.  True,  I  had  learned  the 
business  from  the  bottom,  but  men  stood  aside 
to  help  me  learn  it.  Everything  was  arranged 
to  break  my  way.  I  was  lucky,  of  course,  and 
far  from  dissatisfied,  but  I  wanted  to  know  how 
it  felt  to  stand  on  one's  own  feet  and  to  face 
the  world  alone.  This  urge  was  much  stronger 
in  me  than  any  desire  to  gather  figures  upon 
the  subject  of  unemployment.  In  fact  I  had 
never  questioned,  in  anticipation,  but  that  I 

49 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

should  find  work  immediately.  What  perplexed 
me  was  how  I  should  fill  a  position  when  I  had 
secured  it.  Do  not  think  of  me,  then,  as  a  cold- 
blooded investigator,  anxious  to  gather  lurid 
impressions.  I  wanted  work  and  I  wanted  it 
badly.  I  wanted  to  see  what  I  was  good  for. 
I  wanted  to  prove  to  myself  and  to  my  friends 
at  home  that  I  could  get  a  job,  and  could  fill 
it.  I  wanted  to  feel  that  I  was  worth  something 
on  my  own  account. 

When  we  arrived  in  Rochester,  we  had  no 
idea  how  to  go  about  finding  work.  It  was 
part  of  the  game  that  must  be  learned.  Miss 
Welborn,  you  will  remember,  gave  me  the  ad- 
dresses of  two  foremen.  Later  in  the  day  she 
advised  me  to  see  a  certain  department-store 
manager,  whose  name  she  mentioned.  These 
were  my  first  clues. 

On  the  morning  following  our  arrival,  I  left 
the  boarding-house  after  breakfast  and  called 
on  all  three  persons,  one  after  another.  Their 
places  of  business  I  found  by  purchasing  an 


The  Groom's  Story 

invaluable  little  street  map.  At  Sibley,  Lind- 
say &  Curr's,  the  department  store,  I  was  inter- 
viewed by  the  employing  manager  in  his  private 
office.  It  was  about  ten  in  the  morning.  He 
tilted  back  in  his  swivel  chair  and  eyed  me 
appraisingly.  I  was  vastly  excited !  I  thought 
that  I  had  a  position  as  good  as  secured !  After 
a  few  searching  questions  regarding  my  former 
employment  and  my  reasons  for  leaving,  he 
ordered  me  to  fill  out  an  application  blank.  I 
did  so,  and  handed  the  document  to  him  hope- 
fully. He  turned  to  his  mail.  Without  glancing 
up  he  said :  — 

"We  have  no  openings  now,  I  doubt  if  there 
will  be  any  before  winter.  I  '11  put  this  applica- 
tion on  file.  Good-morning." 

I  withdrew  somewhat  dashed,  but  the  street's 
sunshine  brightened  me.  After  all,  one  could 
not  expect  to  be  successful  the  first  time. 

I  took  a  car  to  the  Cluett  Peabody  Factory. 
After  a  long  search  I  found  the  foreman  who 
knew  Miss  Welborn.  He  was  a  young,  clean-cut, 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

kindly  man,  anxious  to  help  me.  When  I  spoke 
of  my  wife,  a  look  of  pain  came  into  his  face. 

"I  have  n't  got  a  thing  I  can  give  you  —  not 
a  thing.  We're  laying  men  off  every  day  in- 
stead of  taking  them  on.  You  could  n't  expect 
to  earn  over  eight  or  nine  dollars  a  week  here 
anyway.  The  pay  is  n't  much.  I  '11  sure  let 
you  know  if  anything  turns  up  —  but,  believe 
me,  it's  an  awful  time  to  get  work." 

I  thanked  him  and  left. 

The  second  foreman  came  to  me  grimy  and 
beaproned  from  the  bowels  of  a  shoe  factory. 
He  was  a  man  of  fifty-five  or  more,  dark, 
swarthy,  and  bespectacled.  The  name  Welborn 
evidently  bore  a  charm,  for  he  also  was  decid- 
edly kind  to  me.  His  story,  however,  was  the 
same  —  men  were  being  laid  off  —  in  fact,  the 
whole  shop  was  on  half-time  and  might  shut 
down  altogether.  He  called  in  the  chief  clerk 
and  asked  if  there  were  any  clerical  oppor- 
tunities. The  latter  shook  his  head  with  a 
smile  of  utter  impossibility. 

52 


The  Groom's  Story 

So  I  was  out  in  the  street  again,  still  jobless. 
I  decided  to  try  the  private  employment  agen- 
cies. There  was  no  state  bureau  at  that  time. 
I  consulted  my  reference  book  and  directed  my 
steps  toward  Stearns's  "Old  Reliable"  Agency. 
It  was  a  long  walk  from  the  shoe  factory.  The 
room  I  entered  was  large  and  clean.  There 
were  chairs  about  upon  which  men  and  women 
in  considerable  numbers  sagged  rather  than  sat. 
They  were  a  depressing  congregation.  I  stepped 
to  the  desk. 

"I'm  looking  for  a  job." 

"You  are  not  the  only  one.  What  can  you 
do?"  The  clerk  eyed  me  dispassionately. 

"I'm  a  trained  bookkeeper  and  account- 
ant. I  can  do  all  kinds  of  office  work,  and 
(this  came  hard  the  first  time)  I  'm  willing  to 
do  anything — work  with  my  hands  —  any- 
thing!" 

"There  is  n't  a  clerical  job  in  the  city.  Not 
one.  I  could  place  a  good  barber.  That's  all 
I  got." 

53 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Are  you  liable  to  have  anything  later  on?" 
I  inquired  meekly. 

"No." 

"Do  you  know  where  I  might  inquire  from 
some  one  else?" 

"No." 

He  lost  interest  in  me  and  picked  up  his 
paper.  I  was  evidently  dismissed. 

I  proceeded  to  make  the  rounds  of  the  em- 
ployment agencies.  Also  that  first  day  or  two  I 
tried  for  newspaper  work  with  every  large  daily 
in  the  city.  I  was  nowhere  welcome.  The 
agencies  were  curt,  uncivil,  and  worst  of  all, 
uncommunicative.  Their  lack  of  knowledge  was 
profound.  The  editors  were  far  —  very  far  — 
from  requiring  enterprising  assistants.  My  ini- 
tial enthusiasm  began  to  wane.  I  came  to  real- 
ize that  one  could  not  secure  a  job  by  merely 
asking  for  it  at  polite  hours  in  the  morning. 
One  had  to  get  up  early  —  and  think. 

I  sat  down  and  thought.  Then  I  went  to  the 
Public  Library  and  thought  some  more  —  with 

54 


The  Groom's  Story 

the  great  blue  city  directory  in  front  of  me. 
When  I  came  away  I  had  an  alphabetical  list 
of  every  institution  or  agency  which  in  any 
way  suggested  the  possibility  of  work,  or  knowl- 
edge where  work  might  be  found.  Relentlessly, 
one  by  one,  I  ran  these  clues  down. 

I  went  to  the  Chamber  of  Commerce,  well 
brushed,  having  surrounded  myself  with  an 
atmosphere  of  vast  business  energy.  I  was 
presented  with  circulars  showing  in  elaborate 
detail  the  great  prosperity  of  the  city.  But  the 
secretary  in  charge  shook  his  head  when  I 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  contribute  to  that 
prosperity.  He  informed  me  coldly  that  the 
Chamber  had  no  information  on  the  subject  of 
positions. 

I  went  to  the  Salvation  Army.  The  Major 
was  kind,  but  overrushed  with  relief  work.  He 
welcomed  me  to  his  meetings,  but  had  no  idea 
where  a  job  was  to  be  had. 

I  went  to  the  Y.M.C.A.  They  gave  me  a 
formidable  blank  to  fill  out,  which  —  of  course 

55 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

—  I  never  heard  from.  It  is  one  of  the  chief 
diversions  of  the  unemployed  —  to  fill  out 
blanks  expectantly,  and  then  —  never  to  hear 
from  them.  My  name,  character,  aspirations, 
and  family  history  must  still  be  rotting  in  scores 
of  dusty  and  forgotten  files  throughout  the 
city! 

I  went  to  the  United  Charities.  The  discreet 
young  man  in  charge  offered  me  unlimited 
work  —  volunteer  work.  When  I  told  him  I 
meant  a  regular  payroll  position,  his  manner 
changed.  He  knew  of  nothing  in  his  organiza- 
tion. 

"Do  you  run  an  information  bureau  on  the 
subject?"  I  inquired. 

"No,"  he  said,  considerably  to  my  surprise. 

"You  have  no  knowledge  of  where  work  may 
be  had  in  the  city?" 

"No." 

I  went  to  City  Hall  and  studied  the  Civil 
Service  lists.  A  clerical  position  caught  my  eye. 

"How  soon  is  the  examination?" 

56 


The  Groom's  Story 

"Not  until  December." 

"Have  you  any  examinations  at  all  in  the 
near  future?" 

"No." 

I  went  to  the  City  Recreation  Department 
and  cited  my  experience.  The  director  was 
very  kind,  but  he  had  no  immediate  work  for 
me.  He  hinted  at  Boys'  Club  work  later  on. 
The  pay  was  very  little. 

I  went  to  the  People's  Mission.  The  manager 
said  that  there  were  at  least  five  thousand  men 
out  of  employment  in  the  city  and  that  they 
were  sleeping  in  rows  on  the  mission  floors  at 
night. 

I  went  to  all  the  employment  agencies  again 
and  again.  There  was  no  work  of  any  sort  for 
which  I  was  fitted.  Occasionally  a  specialized 
trade  opening,  such  as  cook  or  carpenter,  ap- 
peared, but  never  clerical  or  manual  work. 
Once  I  was  offered  a  harvesting  position  for 
four  weeks  on  a  Canadian  farm.  The  pay  was 
a  dollar  a  day  and  board.  I  could  not  have 

57 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

taken  it  without  going  a  hundred  miles  away, 
and  furthermore  I  have  grave  doubts  as  to  my 
ability  as  a  farmhand.  I  declined  this  offer, 
and  it  was  immediately  snapped  up  by  the 
man  next  in  line. 

I  went  to  the  Teachers'  Bureau.  Here  I  re- 
ceived some  encouragement  in  the  form  of  a 
tentative  position  to  teach  bookkeeping  in  a 
night  school.  Later  I  was  informed  that  there 
had  been  a  mistake.  The  position  had  already 
been  filled.  I  was,  of  course,  barred  from  all 
public-school  positions,  because  I  lacked  a 
teacher's  license. 

In  the  end  my  careful  planning  and  thinking 
came  to  nothing.  There  was  apparently  no 
place  in  the  entire  city  which  could  intelligently 
dispense  information  about  the  possibilities  of 
employment.  The  streets  swarmed  with  the 
jobless,  but  nobody  knew  anything  about  it 
officially. 

Finally  I  was  driven  back  to  the  papers. 
For  the  entire  time  that  we  remained  in  Roch- 

58 


The  Groom's  Story 

ester,  never  a  morning  went  by  that  Margaret 
and  I  did  not  go  over  every  single  item  of 
"Help  Wanted  —  Female"  and  "Help  Wanted 
—  Male"  in  the  columns  of  the  "Democrat 
and  Chronicle."  The  paper  came  to  us  at  four 
or  earlier  in  the  morning,  and  very  often  we 
would  get  up,  light  the  gas,  and  blue-pencil 
our  opportunities,  if  there  were  any,  before  the 
day  had  fairly  dawned.  If  a  reasonable  chance 
appeared,  we  would  dress,  eat  a  cold,  hasty 
breakfast  of  cereal  and  milk,  and  leave  before 
six.  It  was  hopeless  to  attempt  to  secure  any 
position  after  that  hour.  One  comes  to  appre- 
ciate that  phrase  of  the  learned  economists  — 
"competition  among  wage-earners." 

Our  routine  seldom  varied  —  an  early  break- 
fast, a  list  of  possible  jobs,  the  city  map,  and 
carfare.  We  would  say  good-bye  at  the  lodging- 
house  steps,  and  go  our  separate  ways.  At  noon 
we  met  in  a  twenty-cent  restaurant  to  talk 
over  the  morning's  adventures.  For  the  first 
few  weeks  our  stories  were  largely  identical  —  a 

59 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

long  hunt  for  the  factory,  a  waiting  line  of 
eager  applicants,  occasionally  an  interview, 
with  its  inevitable  climax — "turned  down," 
or  "too  late,"  or  "we  want  more  experience," 
or  "we  hired  all  the  people  we  wanted  yester- 
day." Time  after  time  an  advertisement  was 
allowed  to  run  for  two  days  when  all  the  posi- 
tions it  offered  were  filled  before  six  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  first  day.  So  cheaply  is 
labor  regarded,  so  great  the  competition,  that 
the  employer  tends  completely  to  lose  sight  of 
the  human  cost  of  his  neglect  —  cost  measured 
in  needless  walking,  and  car  fare,  and  at  the 
end,  needless  disappointment. 

There  was  no  position,  that  I  felt  I  was  in 
any  way  competent  to  fill,  for  which  I  did  not 
try.  Furthermore,  I  wrote  over  thirty  letters 
in  answer  to  newspaper  advertisements.  I  re- 
ceived just  two  replies;  one  offering  a  clerkship 
at  six  dollars  a  week,  which  I  did  not  answer; 
one  offering  another  clerkship  (at  an  unmen- 
tioned,  perhaps  unmentionable,  salary),  which 

60 


The  Groom's  Story 

had  been  taken  when  I  came  to  telephone 
for  it. 

Toward  the  end  of  our  stay,  I  became  so 
weary  of  writing  unanswered  letters  that  out 
of  curiosity  I  myself  put  two  shameless  adver- 
tisements into  the  paper;  one  calling  for  "a 
man  able  to  use  and  keep  his  head,"  the  other 
for  "a  good  bookkeeper."  To  the  former  I  re- 
ceived thirty-two  replies,  and  to  the  latter 
thirty-nine.  I  wish  that  I  could  print  some  of 
these  letters  just  as  they  came  to  me.  They 
form  a  mosaic  of  wretchedness  and  defeat. 
Those  from  the  older  men  —  men  who  had  held 
important  offices  in  former  years — ,were  the 
most  pathetic.  One  man  had  been  the  chief 
auditor  of  a  transcontinental  railroad.  Another 
had  been  editor  of  a  well-known  newspaper! 

In  all  I  applied  for  nearly  one  hundred  spe- 
cific positions,  and  with  the  exceptions  already 
stated,  I  never  secured  any  sort  of  an  opening 
in  a  single  one  of  them !  The  nearest  approach 
to  a  real  opportunity  that  I  had  was  as  motor- 

61 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

man  for  the  street-railway  company.  At  the 
car  barns  I  was  offered  a  job,  but  as  the  uniform 
cost  eighteen  dollars  to  begin  with,  besides  the 
fee  for  a  union  card,  and  as  one's  period  of  ap- 
prenticeship without  tangible  earnings  was  of 
some  months'  duration,  I  let  this  golden  moment 
pass.  So  would  any  one  without  twenty-eight 
dollars  and  with  the  need  of  immediate  returns. 
We  had  been  in  Rochester  perhaps  two  weeks 
when  I  opened  the  paper  one  morning  to  find 
the  following :  — 

"Wanted  —  Man  for  bowling  alleys." 
I  ran  my  pencil  under  the  type  hopefully. 
I  had  bowled.  I  knew  how  to  set  up  pins.  This 
was  the  most  promising  opportunity  that  had 
yet  presented  itself.  I  reported  at  the  address 
named  at  a  little  after  seven  in  the  morning. 
The  janitor  told  me  to  come  back  at  noon. 
At  noon  a  clerk  told  me  to  see  the  alley  boss 
at  four.  At  four  o'clock  the  alley  boss  told  me 
to  come  at  seven.  At  seven  the  same  gentle- 
man, mounted  upon  his  throne,  where  he 

62 


The  Groom's  Story 

scored  the  bowlers,  told  me  to  stay,  to  watch 
the  boys  "set  'em  up,"  and  possibly  at  nine 
o'clock,  when  the  shift  changed,  he  would  give 
me  a  job.  I  watched  them  "set  'em  up"  —  by 
a  rather  ingenious  machine  instead  of  by  hand. 
I  watched  until  every  motion  was  clean  and 
clear  in  my  mind.  I  wanted  this  —  my  first 
job !  I  wanted  it  badly.  I  could  feel  excitement 
surging  up  in  me  as  nine  o'clock  approached. 
I  did  not  care  if  the  pay  was  only  twelve  and 
a  half  cents  an  hour.  I  did  not  care  if  I  earned 
only  enough  for  "  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  flop  for 
the  night,"  as  one  of  the  other  aspirants  put  it. 
I  did  not  care  how  menial  the  task.  I  was  sick 
and  tired  of  looking  for  work.  I  wanted  to  do 
something.  I  was  vibrant  with  strange  re- 
pressed emotions.  At  nine  o'clock  a  gong 
sounded.  The  men  filed  out  of  their  places,  and 
the  fresh  crew  filed  in.  All  twelve  alleys  were 
almost  instantly  filled.  Some  half-dozen  of  us 
remained.  The  alley  boss  lit  another  cigarette 
-  "Nothin'  doin',  boys." 

63 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

We  went  out  in  the  night.  For  an  hour  I 
walked  the  streets  bitterly  resentful,  and  angry 
clean  through.  All  day  my  hopes  had  been 
kindled  and  rekindled.  I  had  been  ruthlessly 
stimulated  to  a  crisis  which  collapsed  when  the 
hour  came.  I  shook  myself  out  of  the  mood  at 
last,  but  I  realized  that  night  how  anarchists 
are  made. 

"Wanted  —  Janitor  and  bottlewasher." 
At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  on  hand 
at  the  address  named  in  the  above  advertise- 
ment. It  was  a  gaunt  factory  building  toward 
the  center  of  the  town,  I  found  thirty-eight 
men  ahead  of  me.  We  waited  four  hours ;  the 
crowd  increased  to  fifty  or  sixty.  Nobody  was 
interviewed.  No  word  came  from  the  sullen, 
battered  door  around  which  we  pushed.  Finally 
a  clerk  emerged  on  an  errand.  As  an  apparent 
afterthought  he  turned  and  spoke  to  one  of  us. 
"No  use  you  waiting  around.  The  job's 
filled  long  ago." 

64 


The  Groom's  Story 

It  had  been  filled  —  filled  from  the  inside, 
and  the  manager  had  not  had  the  common 
decency  to  let  us  know.  There  is  no  telling 
what  that  long  fruitless  wait  may  have  cost 
some  needy  man.  So  often  this  happened  to 
me  —  long,  dragging  waits,  and  then  not  even 
an  interview  for  any  of  the  applicants.  The 
position  had  been  quietly  filled  from  within. 
I  remember  being  almost  suffocated  in  a  mad 
rush  of  clamoring  theater  "supes"  one  after- 
noon, and  then,  after  hours  of  swirling  about 
the  stage  doors,  —  hundreds  of  us,  —  it  ap- 
peared that  the  "twenty  young  men"  needed 
had  all  been  picked  that  morning!  It  would 
have  filled  a  German  statistician  with  joy  to 
compute  the  fruitless  miles  traveled  that  after- 
noon by  those  hundreds  of  boys  and  men ! 

Despite  the  almost  desperate  drives  we  some- 
times made  for  a  door,  there  never  was  any 
elbowing  or  trying  to  forge  in  front  of  the  next 
man  unfairly.  It  seemed  to  be  an  unwritten 
law  of  the  unemployed  that  every  applicant 

65 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

should  have  his  chance.  There  were  no  hard 
looks  directed  to  newcomers,  no  attempt  at 
monopoly.  I  never  saw  an  unemployed  man 
handle  another  roughly.  Rather  they  talked 
together,  often  jested  in  a  grim,  pathetic  way, 
compared  notes,  and  commented  upon  the 
European  war.  It  is  strange  and  gripping  to 
see  men,  on  the  verge  of  starvation  and  de- 
spair, imbued  with  a  certain  fine  sense  of 
courtesy  and  fellowship ! 

I  answered  an  advertisement  calling  for  "two 
laborers."  I  found  the  work  to  consist  in 
carrying  fifty  pounds  of  slate  up  ladders  on  a 
church  steeple.  The  wage  was  eight  dollars  a 
week.  I  talked,  as  always,  with  my  fellow 
applicants.  There  were  perhaps  twenty  gath- 
ered. One  tall,  clean-cut,  neatly  dressed  man 
interested  me  particularly.  He  looked  a  gentle- 
man. I  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  at  this 
place.  This  was  his  story :  — 

He  had  held  a  good  clerical  position  with  the 

66 


The  Groom's  Story 

Eastman  Kodak  Company.  Owing  to  dull 
times  he  had  been  laid  off  together  with  over 
a  thousand  other  workers.  He  had  tried  des- 
perately to  secure  a  new  position  ever  since. 
In  all  the  eight  weeks  of  his  searching,  he  had 
been  employed  for  only  one  day's  scrubbing 
upon  his  hands  and  knees!  He  had  almost  no 
money  left.  He  told  me  of  a  wife  and  child  at 
home.  As  he  spoke  of  them  his  face  hardened 
and  these  words  flashed  from  him : 
"God!  what  is  the  world  coming  to?" 
He  is  the  spokesman  for  millions  of  human 
beings. 

A  little  later  they  told  us  that  no  more  men 
were  wanted,  and  I  watched  my  friend  go  bit- 
terly'down  the  street  —  thinking,  no  man  knew 
what  black  and  somber  thoughts.  I  found  his 
kind  everywhere,  steady,  reliable,  clean-spoken 
men,  beaten  back  from  the  clerical  field  and 
trying  at  last  for  any  sort  of  manual  or  menial 
labor. 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Wanted  —  Men  to  pick  pears  on  Monday 
morning." 

This  advertisement  appeared  in  the  paper 
on  Saturday.  I  decided  to  forestall  my  com- 
petitors by  applying  immediately  and  register- 
ing my  name  in  advance.  The  address  was  that 
of  a  suburban  town.  I  took  a  trolley  to  the  end 
of  its  route,  walked  four  miles  on  a  hot  and 
dusty  road,  and  came  at  last  to  a  big  white 
farmhouse.  I  went  to  the  back  door  and 
knocked.  A  florid  man  in  shirt-sleeves  an- 
swered. 

"I  understand  you  want  pickers  on  Mon- 
day," I  said. 

"  Sorry,  son,"  he  replied ;  "we  Ve  got  our  men, 
and  turned  away  a  hundred  more  already!" 

I  might  multiply  these  incidents  indefinitely, 
but  it  would  be  largely  reiteration  —  thirty, 
fifty,  one  hundred  men  for  every  position,  and 
in  many  cases  the  work  disappearing  through 
some  hidden  mechanism  within.  There  was 
nothing  so  useless,  so  utterly  unwanted,  in 

68 


The  Groom's  Story 

the  city  of  Rochester  as  our  army,  thousands 
strong,  that  got  up  in  darkness  on  a  summer 
morning  to  read  the  paper,  and  to  walk  the 
town  from  end  to  end  in  search  of  gossamer 
butterflies.  What  wonder  men  degenerate 
under  the  pressure  of  this  continual  defeat  and 
failure !  What  wonder  their  courage  sinks,  their 
moral  inhibitions  collapse,  and  that  they  grow 
sullen,  bitter,  and  at  last  unemployable.  I  have 
no  great  love  for  the  sodden  and  the  outcast, 
but  step  by  step  I  have  seen  them  made  under 
the  pitiless  mould  of  continued  unemploy- 
ment. I  have  watched  them  come  eager  and 
hopeful  in  the  morning,  confident  in  the  sun- 
shine and  in  their  ability  to  succeed;  and  I 
have  talked  with  them  beaten  and  bitter  under 
the  arc  lights  at  night. 

There  were,  however,  two  avenues  open  to 
me  in  which  I  might  have  secured  unlimited 
work.  The  first  was  known  as  "business  oppor- 
tunities" in  the  columns  of  the  press.  These 
opportunities  made  alluring  copy,  but  they 

69 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

sold  from  one  hundred  dollars  up.  In  fine,  it 
took  a  capitalist  to  enjoy  them.  I  interviewed 
a  number  of  these  brilliant  hopes,  not  because 
I  had  money  to  throw  away  upon  them,  but 
because  I  wished  to  find  out  what  they  meant. 
One  suave  gentleman  offered  me  a  sure  five 
thousand  dollars  a  year  in  exchange  for  five 
hundred  dollars  down.  He  merchanted  an  un- 
known but  potent  "Bug  Killer."  Another 
brisk  and  nervous  person  offered  to  collaborate 
with  me  (for  a  consideration)  in  the  produc- 
tion of  the  unborn  "Liberal  Weekly"  —  a 
sheet  designed  to  protect  the  liquor  interests 
of  the  city  from  such  untimely  onslaughts  as 
had  been  recently  launched  by  the  W.C.T.U., 
the  Anti-Saloon  League,  the  Suffragists,  etc. 
He  had  many  hundreds  of  paid-up  subscrip- 
tions, and  yards  of  prepaid  advertising  space 
—  but  as  yet  he  had  no  copy.  If  I  had  had 
six  months  before  me,  I  believe  I  should 
have  taken  this  offer.  It  had  enlightening 
possibilities. 

70 


The  Groom's  Story 

The  second  avenue  that  always  beckoned 
was  that  of  selling  agent.  The  opportunities  in 
this  field  were  numberless.  The  reason  was 
simple.  No  salaries  were  paid.  All  compensa- 
tion was  on  the  commission  basis.  For  a  week, 
by  way  of  experience,  I  tried  to  sell  real  estate 
lots  by  means  of  door-to-door  canvassing.  I 
sold  no  lots  (though  I  left  a  big  list  of  "pros- 
pects" as  a  legacy  to  my  successor),  but  I  accu- 
mulated considerable  experience.  I  was  made 
acutely  aware  of  the  psychology  of  salesman- 
ship as  practiced  by  the  typical  "agent."  I 
found  that  the  end,  the  aim  of  his  life  is  to 
sell  —  seldom  to  please,  seldom  to  provide 
some  rational  object  for  a  rational  human  need. 
The  supreme  achievement  is  to  force  some  un- 
wanted article  upon  an  individual  against  his 
slowly  decreasing  objections.  I  attended  a 
"selling  talk"  one  night  in  the  office  of  the 
company  with  which  I  was  connected.  It  was 
a  vile  and  cowardly  affair.  One  after  another, 
the  salesmen,  with  manifest  pride,  arose  and 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

told  of  the  various  tricks  by  which  they  had 
taken  advantage  of  human  nature,  and  trapped 
their  "prospects"  into  buying  something  which 
they,  the  prospects,  neither  wanted  nor  needed. 
I  encountered  the  selling  army  at  every  turn. 
It  was  recruited  from  middle-class  boys,  pre- 
sumably of  a  high-school  education,  too  proud 
to  learn  a  trade.  It  was  a  life  that  fairly  splin- 
tered the  props  of  character  —  unsteady,  wan- 
dering, hourless,  with  a  premium  upon  the  art 
of  taking  unfair  advantage  of  human  nature. 
It  was  an  uncanny  revelation  to  me  —  these 
hundreds  of  drifting  young  men  engaged  in 
wringing  a  living  from  the  community  by  hang- 
ing like  leeches  upon  the  selling  organism.  I 
went  time  and  again  to  answer  advertisements 
for  "agents,"  and  whether  the  commodity  was 
crayon  portraits  or  automatic  curling  tongs, 
the  same  shifty  young  men  always  surrounded 
me.  The  rank  and  file  of  the  unemployed  never 
invaded  this  field.  They  left  it  clear  to  the 
unfortunate  persons  whose  specialty  it  was. 

72 


The  Groom's  Story 

I  want  to  drive  home,  if  I  can,  the  utter 
chaos  which  I  encountered  in  the  field  of 
information.  Nobody  knew  how  many  un- 
employed there  were,  or  what  the  industrial 
possibilities  were,  or  what  the  harvesting  pos- 
sibilities were,  or  where  to  go  to  get  informa- 
tion. A  great  darkness  reigned  over  the  whole 
question. 

I  cannot  begin  to  express  the  help  and  aid 
that  a  Government  Labor  Exchange,  equipped 
with  reliable  information,  would  have  been  to 
both  Margaret  and  myself.  One  pictures  a 
spacious,  airy  office,  where  one  receives  cour- 
teous attention  (as  they  do  in  Germany) ;  where 
attendants  preside  over  neat  files  and  forms; 
and  where,  best  of  all,  definite  information  re- 
garding the  situation  as  a  whole,  intrastate  and 
interstate,  is  available.  What  a  Godsend  to  the 
crowding,  pushing,  battered  mass  that  chases 
one  will-o'-the-wisp  after  another  through  an 
almost  fathomless  night!  More  information, 
facts,  knowledge,  —  these  are  the  primary  and 

73 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

urgent  needs  in  pursuing  the  struggle  against 
unemployment. 

After  labor  exchanges  we  must  have  unem- 
ployment insurance  as  it  has  been  successfully 
applied  in  England  and  Germany.  These  meas- 
ures, together  with  regularization  of  industry, 
government  works  in  non-competitive  fields 
such  as  afforestation,  will  go  very  far  toward 
eliminating  the  problem  of  unemployment. 

There  are  to-day  approximately  four  million1 
jobless  men  in  America,  the  great  majority  of 
whom  are  eager,  even  desperate  for  work. 
Even  in  the  best  of  times  this  army  will  number 
well  over  a  million.  Men  are  not  out  of  work 
because  they  are  shiftless.  They  are  out  of 
work  because  modern  industry  demands  a 
roving,  mobile,  easily  liquidated  working  popu- 
lation. It  is  this  requirement  that  is  respon- 
sible for  most  of  the  resulting  shiftlessness. 
Consider  the  harvesting  period,  for  instance. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  must  be  mobilized  for 
1  This  was  written  in  the  spring  of  1915. 

74 


The  Groom's  Story 

a  few  weeks  to  gather  the  crops.  But  when 
winter  comes,  what  are  the  thousands,  now 
idle,  to  do  ?  Some  will  go  to  the  lumber  camps, 
but  this  again  is  a  seasonal  occupation.  With 
the  coming  of  the  spring,  where  are  the  winter 
workers  to  go?  What  kind  of  a  family  life  can 
such  a  wanderer  have  ?  What  chance  has  he  to 
form  habits  of  steadiness  and  thrift?  On  and 
on  he  wanders.  There  is  no  regularity  in  mod- 
ern industry.  Seasonal  changes  throw  literally 
millions  out  of  work.  Fashions  are  responsible 
for  vast  labor  fluctuations.  Christmas  rushes, 
summer  shut-downs,  spring  trade,  fall  trade,  — 
all  mean  enormous  pay-roll  variations.  A  mo- 
ment's reflection  upon  industry  as  it  really  is 
should  convince  any  one,  outside  of  an  insane 
asylum,  that  the  chaotic  disorder  of  American 
methods  of  production,  rather  than  the  per- 
sonal character  of  the  American  workman,  is 
to  blame  for  unemployment  and  its  ensuing 
evils. 
The  unemployed,  instead  of  being  bums  and 

75 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

loafers,  are  in  reality  the  saviors  of  American 
industry.  Without  their  spasmodic  help  in  the 
busy  seasons,  we  should  be  unable  as  a  nation 
to  produce  a  half  of  what  we  now  produce. 
We  have  to  face,  in  my  opinion,  either  these 
self-evident  facts  or  a  revolution.  There  is  a 
limit  to  human  endurance. 

I  append  a  table  showing  a  statistical  sum- 
mary of  my  search  for  employment. 

Summary  of  Employment  Campaign 
Jobs  applied  for                               In  person    By  letter 

"Men  wanted" n             4 

Clerks 7           18 

Farm  work 5 

Bookkeeper 4            3 

Newspaper  work 4            2 

Laborers 3 

Bell  boy I 

Pin  boy   2 

Motorman I             I 

Waiter I 

Janitor I 

Detective I 

Dishwasher  .  I 


The  Groom's  Story 

Soda-fountain  clerk 2 

Exposition  work 2 

Bakery 2 

Hotel  clerk I 

Usher  in  movies I  2 

Clothes  model I 

Theater  supe 2 

Furniture  moving 2 

Chauffeur 2  I 

Office  manager 2 

Advertising  work I 

Window  trimmer I 

57          35 
Total  applications  for  specific  jobs,  92. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  not  all  of  these 
jobs  were  open.  In  many  places  I  walked  in 
at  random  and  inquired  for  work. 

"Business  opportunities"  investigated: 

Insect  destroyer. 
Milk-shake-patent  process. 
"Liberal  Weekly." 
Shoe  store. 
General  merchandise  store. 

77 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"  Agent "  work  investigated :  — 

Real-estate  lots. 
"Book  of  Facts." 
Crayon  portraits. 
Insurance. 
Patent  washers. 
Patent  specialties. 

Institutions  visited:  — 

(1)  All  the  employment  offices. 

(2)  Young  Men's  Christian  Association. 

(3)  United  Charities. 

(4)  City  Hall. 

(5)  Teachers'  Agency. 

(6)  Civil  Service  Commission. 

(7)  Chamber  of  Commerce. 

(8)  Business  Exchange. 

(9)  Salvation  Army. 
(10)  People's  Mission. 

EMPLOYMENT 

I  did  get  work  finally — and  I  saved  my 
pride.  But  I  did  not  get  it  by  applying  for  it: 
quite  the  reverse.  A  friend  whom  I  made  in 
the  boarding-house  approached  me  one  day  and 
asked  if  I  would  look  over  his  accounts.  I  did 

78 


The  Groom's  Story 

so,  and  he  ended  by  giving  me  charge  of  his 
books  at  twenty-five  cents  an  hour.  It  was 
spasmodic  labor.  In  all  I  earned  about  forty 
dollars,  or  an  average  of  less  than  five  dollars 
a  week  for  our  entire  stay.  Not  much,  perhaps, 
but  when  I  came  to  go,  I  was  rewarded  by 
my  patron's  telling  me  that  he  had  planned  to 
"keep  me  busy  all  winter"  at  steadier  rates.  I 
had  found  a  niche  in  the  industrial  order,  but, 
strangely  enough,  it  had  come  to  me  as  a  per- 
sonality; I  had  not  gone  to  it  as  an  applicant. 
I  saved  my  pride,  but  I  did  not  succeed  in  get- 
ting the  kind  of  work  I  had  anticipated.  I 
might  have  remained  months  longer,  and  still 
not  have  succeeded.  I  happened  to  fall  into 
this  fortuitous  opportunity,  and  I  realize  now 
how  lucky  I  was  to  get  anything  at  all. 

AND   FINALLY 

In  the  midst  of  our  adventure  we  were  forced 
to  leave  it.  We  had  come  to  the  end  of  even 
the  most  generous  honeymoon  allowance.  We 

79 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

had  stayed  over  eight  weeks  and  it  was  well 
on  into  the  fall.  Our  room  was  often  uncom- 
fortably cold.  We  used  to  boil  hominy  on  the 
gas  burner,  filling  the  place  with  steam  in  an 
endeavor  to  keep  warm.  One  day,  when  Mar- 
garet was  working,  even  this  heroic  method 
failed  to  keep  me  from  shivering  as  I  wrote, 
and  finally  in  desperation  I  left  that  clammy 
little  room  and  went  to  the  railway  station, 
and  sat  for  hours  on  a  bench  reveling  in  the 
public  warmth !  I  can  never  see  a  dirty,  cold- 
looking  man  pushing  into  a  station  waiting- 
room  without  remembering  that  day  —  and 
sympathizing  with  him. 

On  the  morning  before  we  left  we  sat  down 
quite  soberly  to  talk  it  all  over.  You  have  no 
idea  how  difficult  it  was  to  get  a  perspective  upon 
the  whole  matter.  We  had  been  caught  in  such  a 
pressure  of  immediate  personal  circumstances. 

"Let's  not  go  home,"  said  Margaret,  gazing 
ruefully  at  her  "going-away"  trousseau  suit, 
hung  on  the  gas  jet  in  readiness  for  departure. 

80 


The  Groom's  Story 

"Let's  stay  here  and  be  free  and  unconven- 
tional and  —  and  human  for  ever  and  ever!" 

"In  this  room,"  I  asked,  "for  ever  and  ever? 
Could  you  stick  it  out?" 

"No,"  said  Margaret  soberly;  "I  don't  sup- 
pose I  could  stick  it  out  —  in  this  room  —  for 
ever  and  ever." 

Our  eyes  wandered  over  the  battered  furni- 
ture, the  peeling  plaster,  the  stained  ceiling, 
the  unwashed  tin  dishes. 

"How  long  could  we  stick  it  out?"  I  mused. 

We  debated  that.  We  faced  the  facts  frankly, 
discounted  for  the  touch  of  romance  and  ad- 
venture that  had  borne  us  through,  and  con- 
cluded as  follows:  — 

If  we  had  been  genuinely  faced  with  the 
necessity  of  living  through  an  indefinite  future 
in  the  same  manner  that  we  had  lived  for  the 
past  six  or  seven  weeks,  we  should  undoubtedly 
have  chosen  not  to  live  at  all ! 

We,  a  fairly  tolerant,  fairly  democratic 
woman  and  man,  not  oversensitive  as  to  sounds 

81 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

or  smells  or  dirt,  should  have  chosen  to  cease 
to  live  rather  than  to  go  on  living  as  the  aver- 
age American  must  live !  Robbed  of  the  spirit 
of  adventure  (and  what  adventure  is  there  for 
the  Average  Citizen?)  that  living  would  have 
degenerated  for  us  into  a  long,  horrible  night- 
mare! Perhaps  this  flat  statement  will  dimly 
suggest  the  tragic  difference  between  the  way 
some  of  us  are  brought  up  to  live  and  the  way 
that  most  of  us  apparently  must  live. 

But  it  is  all  so  ridiculous ! 

People  do  not  have  to  live  like  that.  There 
is  no  inexorable  law  to  which  they  must  con- 
form. There  is  enough  and  more  than  enough 
to  go  'round.  The  whole  population  of  the 
world  could  live  in  the  State  of  Texas  and  give 
half  an  acre  to  a  family.  The  whole  world  could 
be  fed  on  Canadian  wheat-fields  alone.  The 
earth  is  groaning  with  the  good  things  of  life  — 
waiting,  yearning  to  give  them  to  us.  Only  we 
do  not  understand  how  to  distribute  them. 
To  him  that  hath,  we  satiate  the  more,  and  to 

82 


The  Groom's  Story 

him  that  hath  not,  we  continually  take  away, 
and  the  result  lies  smouldering  there  in  Roch- 
ester. 

When  are  the  intelligent  educated  people  of 
this  country  going  to  cease  sermonizing  about 
the  unworthiness  of  the  lower  classes,  cease 
burying  their  heads  in  the  sands  of  charity  and 
relief  work,  and  sit  down  like  rational  human 
beings  and  help  the  poor  to  think  their  way  out 
of  this  idiotic  breakdown  in  the  machinery  of 
distribution?  Some  of  them,  fortunately,  have 
made  a  beginning.  Henry  George  was  one  of 
the  pioneers.  If  we  had  the  Single  Tax  in  full 
operation  to-day,  in  twenty  years  I  believe  that 
there  would  not  be  such  a  thing  as  a  problem 
of  poverty  remaining  in  America ! 

We  said  good-bye  to  our  friends  (our  land- 
lady wept),  and  half  sorrowfully,  half  gladly, 
boarded  the  train  that  was  to  carry  us  back 
to  the  old  ordered  way  of  living.  We  sat  quite 
silently  in  the  coach  watching  the  remembered 
streets  and  squares  and  buildings  flash  into 

83 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

view  and  fade  into  the  distance  of  what  was  to 
be  only  a  half-exhilarating,  half-tragic  memory. 

Suddenly  Margaret  looked  away  from  the 
fading  city  and  met  my  eyes.  I  remember  so 
well  the  earnestness  of  the  question  that  came 
from  her:  — 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  ever  make  them  under- 
stand—all  this?" 

"We'll  try,"  I  said. 

And  we  have. 


Part  II 
The  Bride's  Story 


Part  II —  The  Bride's  Story 

I  BELIEVE  that  the  most  significant  —  and 
the  most  impersonal  —  moment  in  my  life 
occurred  some  three  years  ago,  when  a  state- 
ment of  cold  statistical  fact  quietly  intruded 
upon  my  rather  conventional,  and  decidedly 
comfortable,  view  of  life.  The  fact  was  this: 
Ninety-two  per  cent  of  the  women  in  the 
United  States  do  their  own  housework.  Only 
eight  per  cent  of  them  are  financially  able  to 
employ  servants! 

The  atmosphere  in  which  I  had  lived,  visited, 
and  done  my  thinking,  represented  less  than 
ten  per  cent  of  the  national  point  of  view!  To 
be  sure,  I  had  often  been  told  that  half  the 
world  does  not  know  how  the  other  half  lives. 
But  to  have  one  "half"  jump  to  ninety-two 
per  cent  and  the  other  half  dwindle  to  eight  per 
cent!  Gradually  there  crept  into  my  startled 
consciousness,  driving,  insistent  voices.  The 
Average  Family  wage  in  America  is  six  hundred 

87 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

dollars.  You  spend  that  amount  on  your  mere 
personal  wants.  Sixty  per  cent  of  the  wealth  in 
your  United  States  is  owned  by  two  per  cent 
of  the  people.  There  are  always  a  million  men 
out  of  employment  in  your  prosperous  country 
—  often  more  —  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  began  to  think. 

Now,  the  Bride's  story  is  not  so  very  different 
from  the  Groom's  story.  Mostly  it  was  an 
experience  of  glorious  comradeship  and  equal- 
ity. But  there  are  situations  in  which  the  eight 
or  nine  million  working-women  find  themselves 
which  do  not  always  exist  for  their  brother 
workers.  And  it  is  those  problems  in  employ- 
ment and  unemployment  which  I  wish  to  try 
and  make  a  living  reality,  for  the  women  (and 
men)  who  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  know 
life  from  only  one  angle. 

TRAMPING  THE    STREETS 

I  had  always  rather  pitied  the  women  who 
had  not  known  the  protection  of  a  father,  or 

88 


The  Bride's  Story 

a  husband,  or  an  income.  And  in  shopping  I 
had  been  vaguely  uncomfortable  at  the  marked 
abyss  between  my  leisured  buying  and  the 
often  tired  and  listless  selling  on  the  part  of  the 
girl  across  the  counter.  Sometimes,  as  I  waited 
for  a  package,  and  heard  her  mechanically  an- 
swering her  next  customer,  — 

"No,  ma'am  —  they're  not  guaranteed  color 
fast," 

"Three  aisles  down  on  the  left," 
I  used  to  try  to  imagine  myself  facing  the 
monotony  of  it,  six  days  a  week,  fifty  weeks 
a  year,  for  the  reward  of  six  or  possibly  eight 
dollars  a  week.  My  imagination  had  never  been 
able  to  encompass  the  relentless  necessity  of 
it  —  I  simply  could  not  conceive  myself  facing 
that  dull  sameness  day  in,  day  out,  year  in, 
year  out.  Meanwhile  the  greater  tragedy  of 
desperately  needing,  but  not  procuring  the  op- 
portunity, to  work,  had  not  occurred  to  me. 

I  remember  so  well  our  first  morning  at  the 
boarding-house  breakfast  table.  We  opened  the 

89 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

daily  paper  and  turned  immediately  to  the 
"Help  Wanted"  column.  When  we  heard  our 
landlady's  steps  approaching,  we  rustled  hastily 
to  the  war  news.  We  were  ashamed  to  be 
caught  looking  for  work!  By  surreptitious 
peeping,  however,  I  found  an  advertisement 
inserted  by  a  paper-box  company.  "Girls 
Wanted"  and  I  took  down  the  address,  de- 
termined to  make  this  my  first  application. 

I  was  a  little  breathless  when  I  said  good-bye 
to  Stuart,  but  my  hopes  ran  high.  I  made  my 
way  across  the  park  with  its  burdened  benches, 
and  so  on  to  Main  Street.  A  fat  and  kindly 
policeman  directed  me  to  one  of  the  more  dingy 
side  streets.  I  walked  between  innumerable 
workshops  and  factories,  and  only  came  to  my 
number  when  I  had  reached  the  very  end  of 
the  street.  I  kept  wondering  whether  the  peo- 
ple I  passed  knew  that  I  was  going  to  get  a  job 
in  a  paper-box  factory!  It  seemed  as  though 
my  whole  being  flamed  with  the  information ! 

I  passed  before  a  dim  and  ancient  door  with 

90 


The  Bride's  Story 

a  sign  over  it  from  which  two  letters  were  miss- 
ing. I  paused  and  stared  at  the  number.  That 
first  entrance  took  courage!  I  started  up  the 
winding  wooden  stairs  which  led  to  some  still 
more  narrow  and  creaking,  and  those  to  an 
even  more  fire-trap  flight  ending  in  the  Paper- 
Box  Factory.  I  entered  the  work-littered  quar- 
ters, a  chaos  of  glue  and  boxes  and  scurrying 
women.  At  first  no  one  seemed  to  notice  me,  as 
I  stood  waiting,  apologetically.  Then  a  brisk, 
sandy-haired  man,  evidently  in  authority,  ap- 
proached, and  I  ventured  to  tell  him  that  I  had 
come  in  answer  to  an  advertisement  in  the 
paper. 

"Have  you  ever  worked  in  a  box  factory 
before?" 

"No,  I  have  n't,  but— " 

"Nothin'  doin'"  —  he  turned  away. 

"But  I — "  I  was  talking  to  a  vanishing 
back,  and  exit  was  the  only  cue.  By  the  time  I 
reached  the  street,  philosophy  had  restored  my 
courage,  and  I  boldly  entered  two  other  box 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

factories  on  my  way  back  to  Main  Street.  In 
each  I  was  told  briefly  that  no  help  was  needed, 
and  for  a  few  blocks  I  allowed  myself  to  feel 
that  I  had  done  my  job-seeking  duty  for  the  day. 
After  a  little  more  trudging  and  silent  argu- 
ment, however,  I  entered  a  laundry  office ;  only 
to  be  turned  away  when  I  admitted  that  I  had 
done  merely  "private  washing."  Then  I 
bearded  the  manager  of  a  spectacle  factory  in 
his  den  —  an  office  fairly  bristling  with  effi- 
ciency —  and  found  that  all  dens  are  not  in- 
habited by  lions.  He  was  a  very  pleasant  per- 
son, and  hospitable  enough  to  assure  me  that 
it  was  "very  dull  times."  I  can  still  remember 
my  gratitude  for  that  little  personal  overture. 
But  now  the  excitement  and  novelty  of  my 
situation  were  beginning  to  wear  off,  and  I  was 
feeling  a  little  weary  under  the  pressure  of  my 
effort.  The  term  "sheltered  woman"  was  be- 
ginning to  signify  new  and  unsuspected  things, 
but  I  shunned  its  appeal  and  forced  myself  on. 
When  at  last  I  met  Stuart  at  the  appointed 

92 


The  Bride's  Story 

restaurant  for  luncheon,  I  had  several  other 
adventures  to  describe  to  him,  visits  to  a  dirty 
grocery  store,  duett's  attractive  factory,  and 
a  cheap  clothing  store:  all  to  the  rhythm  and 
dawning  realization  of  the  meaning  of  those 
words — "Tramping  the  streets."  I  was  al- 
most too  tired  to  eat. 

In  the  next  two  weeks  I  was  to  apply  for 
ninety-two  positions,  covering  everything  from 
floor-scrubbing  to  clerical  work  in  offices.  For 
instance  I  answered  an  advertisement  inserted 
by  a  cutlery  factory  one  morning,  with  the  fol- 
lowing success :  — 

"I  am  answering  your  advertisement  in  the 
paper." 

"You  should  have  been  here  an  hour  ago. 
The  places  were  all  taken  at  six-thirty." 

The  next  morning  I  saw  the  same  advertise- 
ment, and  supposing  that  more  girls  were 
needed  I  spent  another  ten  cents  for  car  fare. 

"Are  all  the  places  filled,  which  you  adver- 
tised in  this  morning's  paper?" 

93 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Yes,  they  were  all  filled  yesterday,  but  we 
always  run  the  'ad*  three  days!" 

I  answered  one  laundry  advertisement  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  received  the  in- 
formation that  they  had  decided  not  to  take  the 
names  until  the  next  day.  The  gruff  manner 
of  the  boss  made  me  quite  determined  to  inves- 
tigate further,  and  the  next  morning  I  forced 
myself  out  of  bed  at  five  o'clock  into  the  rain 
and  out  again  to  the  laundry  six  miles  away. 

"I've  come  again  to  answer  yesterday's  ad- 


vertisement." 


"Well,  I  filled  the  places  yesterday — don't 
need  any  more  of  you  now." 

That  twenty-cent  car  fare  and  those  two 
wasted  mornings  did  not  mean  to  me  food,  or 
clothing,  or  rent.  But  they  meant,  nevertheless, 
a  very  real  resentment,  and  a  new  glimpse  up 
the  road  of  social  unrest. 

Of  the  employers  with  whom  I  came  in  con- 
tact, perhaps  their  axiom  was  summed  up  for 
me  by  the  manager  of  a  moving-picture  show. 

94 


The  Bride's  Story 

He  was  very  portly,  very  suave,  and  very,  very, 
wise.  As  we  sat  in  his  unkept  little  office,  he 
eyed  me  knowingly,  and  I  can  see  now  the 
amused  smile  which  amplified  the  fat  creases 
in  his  face  when  I  told  him  that,  because  of  my 
musical  education,  I  thought  I  should  be  worth 
ten  dollars  a  week  as  accompanist.  His  answer 
was  terse:  — 

"It  is  n't  a  question  of  what  you  are  worth. 
It's  a  question  of  how  much  you'll  work 
for." 

I  give  this  phrase  without  comment  as  an 
answer  to  certain  modern  employers  who  in- 
sist that  they  always  pay  their  help  what  they 
are  worth. 

My  unemployment  lasted  for  two  weeks,  al- 
though there  were  in  that  time  several  jobs 
which  I  might  have  had,  had  they  not  pre- 
cluded themselves  for  my  particular  situation. 
For  instance,  I  could  have  been  "help  girl"  in 
a  bakery.  Its  foulness,  its  fly-covered  wares,  its 
suffocating  stuffiness  are  still  indelibly  photo- 

95 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

graphed  on  my  mind.  And  the  greasy,  perspir- 
ing woman  in  charge  —  the  incredible  dirtiness 
of  the  apron  she  wore ! 

"How  much  do  you  pay?"  I  asked. 

"Five  a  week." 

"Are  the  hours  long?" 

"Seven  in  the  mornin'  till  seven  at  night." 

"Saturdays,  too?"  I  inquired  meekly,  almost 
apologetically. 

"Saturdays  and  Sundays.  This  is  a  bakery, 
not  a  pleasure  reesort." 

I  came  away  gasping. 

I  could  have  been  an  accompanist  for  a  trav- 
eling circus  troupe,  who  lived  under  canvas 
during  the  country-fair  circuit  and  offered  me 
eight  dollars  a  week. 

"You  gotta  play  all  day  two  days  a  week. 
The  rest  of  it  ain't  so  bad." 

I  feel  that  I  ought  to  make  it  clear  at  this 
point  that  my  contact  with  employers  was  for 
the  most  part  in  smaller  and  less  well-known 
concerns.  In  Sibley,  Lindsay  &  Curr's,  for  in- 

96 


The  Bride  s  Story 

stance,  they  were  discharging  rather  than  em- 
ploying help  —  and  all  that  I  was  able  to  do 
there  was  to  make  out  an  application  blank. 
At  Eastman's  Kodak  Factory  it  was  the  same 
story.  But  I  did  have  there  a  pleasant  inter- 
view with  the  shrewd  and  capable  business 
woman  who  engages  the  hundreds  of  women 
employed  every  year  in  that  gigantic,  well- 
lighted  plant.  I  went  to  her,  recommended  by 
a  personal  friend  of  hers,  a  doctor,  with  whom 
I  had  become  acquainted,  and  received  a  most 
distinct  impression  of  a  firm  giving  fair  treat- 
ment to  its  employees.  To  my  disappointment, 
however,  I  was  unable  to  talk  with  any  of  the 
employees  themselves. 

In  the  daily  round  of  interminable  applica- 
tions, the  few  opportunities  available  did  not 
seem  very  important,  or  very  encouraging. 
Mostly  my  interviews  ran  like  this :  — 

"I  Ve  come  to  answer  your  advertisement  for 
packing  shoes  in  boxes." 

"Ever  done  it  before?" 

97 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"No,  but  I  know  how  to  use  my  head  and 
keep  it." 

"We  want  experienced  help/' 

"I  could  learn  very  quickly,  and  perhaps 
soon  do  better  than  — '' 

In  all  the  countless  times  I  made  that  plea 
for  mental  capacity,  only  one  employer  ever 
seemed  to  consider  the  possibility  of  inexperi- 
enced hands,  with  brains,  becoming  shortly 
more  efficient  than  experienced  hands  with  less 
brains.  Constantly  I  felt  that  what  the  em- 
ployer wanted  was  not  brains,  not  potential 
skill,  but  a  human  machine  —  who  would  do 
the  work  at  less  than  a  living  wage. 

If  only  I  might  convey,  to  those  who  have 
never  experienced  it,  one  thousandth  part  of 
the  utter  weariness,  the  discouragement,  the 
sense  of  worthlessness  which  comes  with  this 
unsuccessful  "Tramping  the  streets."  Here 
was  I, —  not  dependent  for  subsistence  on  the 
outcome  of  my  search,  —  yet  victim  to  a  sense 
of  beaten,  subdued  futility,  a  sense  of  inferior- 

98 


The  Bride's  Story 

ity,  of  uselessness  in  the  whole  industrial  world. 
I  had  not  realized  how  completely  my  self-confi- 
dence had  been  submerged,  until  one  day  I  did 
what  I  must  always  do  in  any  city  —  I  went  to 
the  Suffrage  Headquarters.  There  I  offered  my 
services  while  I  was  out  of  work,  and  I  was  sent 
to  speak  at  a  meeting  outside  of  Rochester. 
For  the  first  time  in  ten  days  or  more,  I  was  no 
longer  a  nonentity — I  was  again  a  personality 
—  with  something  in  me  which  I  could  give  out 
to  other  people.  I  cannot  even  suggest  the  re- 
lief which  came  to  me. 

.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  after  weeks  and  months 
of  discouragement,  the  "unemployed's"  pride 
and  initiative  are  killed  ?  That  the  unemployed 
becomes  unemployable  ? 

"If  a  man  gets  out  of  work,  he  goes  'round 
getting  shabbier  and  shabbier,  until  people  say 
he 's  a  bum,  —  and  he  can't  get  back,"  so  one  of 
my  subsequent  fellow  employees  summed  it  up. 
A  vicious  circle:  unemployment  breeding  shab- 
biness,  shabbiness  breeding  unemployment. 

99 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

IN  THE    EMPLOYMENT  OFFICES 

I  went  faithfully  to  the  various  private  em- 
ployment offices,  and,  with  one  exception,  re- 
ceived decidedly  questionable  treatment.  The 
bureau  I  visited  most  often  gave  me,  upon  the 
deposit  of  a  dollar,  three  cards  to  situations 
which  had  already  been  filled  when  I  applied 
for  them.  I  called  at  the  office  ten  consecutive 
days  (having  left  the  boarding-house  telephone 
number  the  first  day),  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  I  asked  for  my  dollar  back,  according  to 
the  agreement,  when  no  position  was  obtained. 
To  my  astonishment  the  woman  in  charge  re- 
plied :  — 

"You  remember  that  first  restaurant  I  gave 
you  a  card  to?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  they  telephoned  me  right  afterward 
that  you  refused  to  take  the  job." 

"You  know  that's  not  true,"  I  challenged. 

She  shifted  her  attack. 

100 


The  Bride's  Story 

"Well,  anyway,  I've  done  fifty  cents'  worth 
of  advertising  for  you." 

"Where  have  you  advertised?" 

"In  the  papers,"  —  fiercely. 

"In  what  paper?"  I  insisted. 

"  In  the  papers,  I  tell  you." 

I  observed  that  I  had  seen  no  such  adver- 
tisement, and  I  had  watched  closely  every  day. 
And  then  she  turned  on  me :  — 

"See  here,  I'm  not  going  to  be  questioned 
by  the  like  of  you.  You  can  take  fifty  cents  or 
nothing  at  all,  and  you  can  take  it  now  and  get 
out.  .  .  .  Give  me  that  receipt." 

"  But  this  receipt  is  for  one  dollar." 

"Give  it  to  me  or  you  won't  get  even  fifty 
cents,  and  I  will  have  you  put  out  in  a  minute." 

Trembling  with  anger  I  gave  her  the  dollar 
receipt.  I  was  too  enraged  to  think  of  anything 
else  to  do.  Angry  as  I  was  at  the  individual  in- 
justice, my  real  and  abiding  anger  has  been  for 
the  helpless  job-seekers  whom  that  trick  has 
deprived  of  the  actual  necessities  of  life. 

101 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

At  another  employment  office  I  found  that 
the  far  from  irreproachable  person  in  charge 
made  a  practice  of  extorting  two  or  three  dol- 
lars from  both  employee  and  the  employer 
when  she  filled  a  position.  Not  a  moderate 
charge,  but  at  least  a  frank  procedure.  Usu- 
ally her  next  step,  however,  was  to  inform  the 
maid  who  had  filled  the  position  for  a  week 
or  more  that  a  very  much  better  position  was 
now  open  to  her.  By  dint  of  which  Mrs.  Bohn 
received  another  fee  from  the  maid,  and  an- 
other pair  of  fees  in  refilling  the  first  position. 

I  can  see  rows  and  rows  of  those  victims  now 
—  those  job-seekers  —  their  hopeless,  discour- 
aged, subdued  faces.  And  I  can  hear  the  trem- 
bling voice  of  one  old  man,  not  a  day  under 
seventy-five  years  of  age,  as  he  held  out  his 
emaciated  hands  to  the  office  manager  — 

"Can't  you  give  me  something  to  do?  Any- 
thing, —  I  '11  do  anything." 


102 


The  Bride's  Story 

SECOND-MAID  INTERVIEWS 

For  a  time  I  applied  for  second-maid  posi- 
tions, and  could  have  had  two  of  these  or  any 
number  of  general  housework  places.  I  wished 
to  learn,  at  first  hand,  the  attitude  of  women 
who  employ  servants  toward  those  servants.  I 
confined  myself  to  interviews  only,  for  I  felt 
that  I  should  not  be  justified  in  making  my 
would-be  employer  show  me  her  ways  for  the 
very  limited  time  I  could  serve  her. 

The  most  fair-and-square  and  really  delight- 
ful treatment  which  I  received  in  an  interview 
was  in  a  Jewish  household  —  one  of  the  posi- 
tions I  might  have  had.  The  daughter  of  the 
house  answered  the  bell  when  I  rang. 

"I  saw  an  advertisement  for  second  maid  in 
this  morning's  paper,"  I  said,  a  bit  tremulously. 

"Oh,  yes-  -  Mother,"  she  called,  "there's  a 
young  lady  here  to  see  you." 

A  pleasant-faced,  genial  woman  came  into 
the  room. 

103 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"How  do  you  do — don't  stand,  please. 
Have  you  walked  way  out  here?" 

"No,  I  took  a  car,  ma'am." 

"And  have  you  done  second  work  be- 
fore?" 

I  handed  her  my  shameless  self-written  rec- 
ommendation. 

"That 's  a  very  nice  recommendation ,  Mar- 
garet; and  now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  our 
household." 

She  sketched  a  very  normal  and  not  unrea- 
sonable plan  of  work,  adding  that  she  paid  five 
dollars  a  week. 

Clearly  I  could  not  have  inconvenienced  such 
a  frank  and  charmingly  democratic  person,  even 
had  I  been  so  determined. 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said  perspiringly,  "but  I 
don't  feel  I  could  work  for  less  than  six  dollars 
a  week." 

"I'm  sorry,  too,  Margaret,  for  I  should  like 
to  have  you  stay  here  with  us.  I  can't  pay 
more  than  five  dollars,  though,  so  I  am  afraid 

104 


The  Bride's  Story 

we  shall  have  to  part.  Before  you  go  would  n't 
you  like  a  glass  of  water,  or  milk  —  it 's  so 
hot?" 

Out  on  the  street  again  I  found  myself  ru- 
minating —  if  all  women  treated  their  servants 
as  she  did  me,  there  probably  would  n't  be  a 
servant  problem. 

But  all  women  do  not.  I  really  enjoyed  more 
the  interview  with  a  certain  handsome,  steely- 
eyed  woman  who  treated  me  as  only  an  under- 
bred, overdressed  person  can.  She  asked  me 
questions  with  that  delicacy  of  feeling  which 
the  horse-trader  displays  in  examining  an  ani- 
mal whose  merits  he  doubts. 

"You're  not  very  tall,  are  you !  —  My  rooms 
are  high,  and  the  ceilings  have  to  be  cleaned 
regularly." 

:  "I'm  stronger,  perhaps,  than  I  look,"  I  re- 
plied. 

I  then  asked  about  the  wages  —  and  was  told 
that  they  were  five  dollars  a  week,  in  view  of 
which  munificence,  only  one  afternoon  every 

105 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

other  week  was  allowed  "off."  Apologetically 
I  inquired  about  the  second  maid's  room. 

"You  have  a  room  all  to  yourself,"  she  said 
with  a  defiant  stare. 

"Is  it  well  lighted?"  I  asked. 

"It  has  n't  many  windows,"  she  admitted. 

"Has  it  —  any  windows?"  I  ventured. 

"No  —  but  you  can  just  leave  the  door  open 
and  get  plenty  of  air  from  the  hall  and  the  room 
opposite." 

Perhaps  these  conversations  will  serve  as  the 
two  poles  between  which  my  interviews  varied. 

In  my  experience  the  balance  was,  I  try  to 
think,  about  even,  between  those  who  met  me 
on  a  respectful  and  unhumiliating  ground,  and 
those  who  frankly  treated  me  as  an  inferior. 
And  yet  granting  the  fairest  treatment  there  is 
ever  that  indefinable  mental  atmosphere,  that 
perhaps  unconscious  admission  of  a  stigma  at- 
tached to  the  position  of  "servant." 

"Well,  if  girls  really  want  to  work,  they  can 
always  get  general  housework.  I  don't  under- 
let 


The  Bride's  Story 

stand  why  girls  prefer  to  work  in  factories 
when  they  can  have  a  good  home  and  domestic 
work." 

How  often  we  have  heard  this. 

My  answer  is  —  Try  both  kinds  yourself  and 
learn  why.  I  submit  that  not  only  would  the 
factory  be  my  preference,  but  it  would  be  the 
preference  of  the  normal  woman,  with  the  hu- 
man qualities  of  self-respecting  independence 
and  liberty,  bred  in  our  American  life.  There 
are  comparatively  few  families  in  my  personal 
range  of  acquaintanceship  for  whom  I  would 
willingly  perform  domestic  service.  There  are 
none  to  whom  I  would  give  up  my  entire  time 
with  the  exception  of  one  afternoon  a  week,  and 
to  whom  I  would  sacrifice  my  evenings,  my 
Sundays,  and  my  opportunity  for  social  inter- 
course. 

Until  "housework"  recognizes  the  factors  in 
industrial  work,  which  make  the  latter  so  much 
more  attractive  than  domestic  labor  as  it  is  now 
arranged,  the  best  workers  will  continue  to 

107 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

sacrifice  the  advantages  of  that  much  empha- 
sized "good  home"  for  the  greater  rights,  priv- 
ileges, and  freedoms  of  women  in  industry.  We 
may  be  loath  to  admit  this  at  first  (and  perhaps 
for  some  time),  but  come  to  it  we  must.  I  only 
ask  that  one  open-mindedly  consider  the  pres- 
ent disadvantages  of  housework  as  summed  up 
by  C.  Helene  Barker  in  her  most  helpful  little 
book,  "Wanted  — Young  Woman  to  Help  with 
Housework."  How  many  of  us  have  considered 
them  as  applied  to  our  own  individual  case  ? 

Enforced  separation  from  one's  family. 

Loneliness. 

Lack  of  promotion. 

Unlimited  hours  of  work. 

No  day  of  rest  each  week. 

Non-observance  of  legal  holidays. 

Loss  of  caste. 

I  do  not  for  one  moment  belittle  the  real  im- 
portance and  honorable  usefulness  of  domestic 
service,  as  it  ought  and  is  to  be  in  the  future. 
The  solution  need  not  be  the  exodus  of  young 

1 08 


The  Bride's  Story 

women  permanently  into  the  factories.  The 
question  is  solved  when  to  housework  are  ap- 
plied those  business  principles  and  privileges 
with  which  householders  are  now  competing. 

Living  outside  place  of  employment. 
Housework  limited  to  eight  hours  a  day. 
Housework  limited  to  six  days  a  week. 
Extra  pay  for  overtime. 

I  realize  that  we  are  on  the  brink  of  an  un- 
questionable and  momentous  change  in  the 
status,  training,  and  treatment  of  domestic 
wage-earners.  They  will,  of  course,  be  intelli- 
gent, scientifically  trained,  professional  women, 
as  much  respected  and  as  much  specialized  as 
their  sisters  in  medicine,  nursing,  stenography, 
and  the  other  trades  to-day  open  to  women. 
My  argument  is  not  with  domestic  work  per  se, 
but  with  the  mental  attitude  —  conscious  or 
unconscious  —  of  the  average  family  to-day 
employing  servants. 


109 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

EMPLOYMENT 

"Say,  you  ain't  been  tellin'  'em  you  ain't  had 
experience  when  you  Ve  been  askin'  for  work  ? " 

I  nodded  my  head. 

"Aw,  say,  you'll  never  get  experience  until 
you  say  you've  had  it." 

These  words  of  wisdom,  delivered  with  great 
feeling  by  one  of  the  talented  young  ladies  in 
the  boarding-house,  opened  for  me  the  door  of 
employment. 

They  would  not  employ  me  because  I  had 
never  "done  it  before."  I  decided  that  I  was 
in  Rochester  to  sound  the  industrial  game.  If  it 
had  to  be  played  —  why,  I  should  have  to  play 
it,  that's  all. 

So  the  next  time  I  asked  for  work  I  was  pre- 
pared for  the  manager's  question  — 

"Have  you  ever  been  salesgirl  before?" 

I  crossed  my  ringers,  and  strove  to  hold  in 
mind  the  many  occasions  when  I  had  presided 
at  bazaars  and  fairs,  and  answered  him :  — 

no 


The  Bride's  Story 

"Yes,  I  have  been  a  salesgirl  —  in  a  little 
town  outside  of  Boston." 

Fortunately  for  me  the  place  was  a  Saturday 
job  —  and  the  manager,  being  in  need  of  ex- 
tras, asked  for  no  recommendation.  I  went 
away  with  the  amazing  vibrating  command :  — 

"  Come  at  noon  to-morrow." 

My  First  Job  —  Salesgirl 
The  following  noon  found  me  on  hand  at  the 
Blank  Five  and  Ten  Cent  Store.  I  was  told  to 
leave  my  things  in  the  "Girls'  Room"  down- 
stairs. There  in  the  cramped  and  not  too  clean 
quarters  I  hung  my  coat  and  hat,  donned  my 
apron,  and  waited  my  turn  at  the  dingy  mirror. 
I  remember  wondering  why  I  did  not  feel  more 
excited;  and  then,  quite  naturally,  I  followed 
my  chattering  fellow  salesgirls  out  into  the 
basement  where  I  was  to  taste  my  first  em- 
ploy eeship.  The  boss  put  me  at  the  glassware 
counter.  From  twelve  until  ten  (with  one  hour 
out  for  supper)  I  sold  cheap,  inexcusable,  de- 

iii 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

grading  junk.  To  be  sure,  there  were  many  use- 
ful articles,  but  all  over-ornate  and  entirely 
lacking  in  simplicity  or  artistic  feeling.  Cheap. 
And  cheap  people,  mostly,  came  to  buy.  Cheap 
because  their  wages  were,  and  they  had  never 
had  any  chance  to  know  or  buy  anything  but 
cheap  goods.  The  rag-time  which  floated  down 
from  the  other  end  of  the  store  was  cheap  —  so 
was  practically  everything  except  the  ventila- 
tion. That  was  very  dear,  indeed. 

I  believe  I  have  never  known  nine  hours 
equal  in  length  to  those  nine,  —  their  utter 
weariness  and  uninspiring  monotony.  To  be 
sure,  my  initiation  into  the  cash-register  world 
was  stimulating  for  a  while ;  my  talks  with  the 
girls,  in  between  customers,  were  far  from  dull ; 
and  my  amusement  at  the  brusque  superiority 
of  those  who  came  to  buy  helped  to  relieve  the 
weary  sameness.  But  all  this  could  not  coun- 
terbalance that  aching  tiredness  of  incessant 
standing.  In  that  nine  hours  there  were  eight, 
out  of  perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty  customers, 

112 


The  Bride's  Story 

who  spoke  to  me  personally,  or  treated  me 
otherwise  than  as  an  automaton  —  two  of 
them  were  men  who  would  have  been  more  con- 
siderate in  not  speaking  at  all.  I  had  never  be- 
fore realized  the  power  of  the  customer  over  the 
salesgirl.  Against  those  two  men's  remarks  I 
was  utterly  helpless. 

My  fellow  salesgirls,  however,  gave  me  a 
quite  different  relationship.  Their  friendliness 
and  their  cheerfulness  amazed  me.  They  helped 
me  with  the  cash  register,  they  beamed  upon 
me,  patted  me,  told  me  about  their  families, 
their  beaus,  and  (when  I  asked  them)  about 
their  wages.  They  were  getting  between  three 
and  five  dollars  a  week! 

The  girl  at  the  next  counter,  I  noticed,  had 
not  sat  down  once  in  the  five  or  six  hours  I  had 
been  there.  I  asked  her  if  she  was  n't  tired. 

"Oh,  yes,  —  but  you  get  used  to  it.  I'm  so 
used  to  being  tired  I  never  think  about  it  now." 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down  now,  while  you 
can?"  I  asked. 

"3 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

She  looked  around  before  speaking. 

"Take  this  from  me  —  you  don't  want  to  be 
seen  sitting  down  too  much." 

In  a  moment  or  two  the  boss  —  young,  alert, 
and  raucous-voiced  —  came  to  my  counter. 

"See  here,  girlie,  you  can't  register  written 
orders  without  my  O.K.,  see?  —  wha'cher  do 
that  for,  anyway?  And  don't  you  know  you 
can't  leave  your  counter  without  asking  me?" 

"I  —  I  only  went  to  the  wash-room,"  I  fal- 
tered. 

"Sure,  I  believe  you,"  he  said,  not  unkindly; 
"but  it  don't  make  no  difference  where  you  go. 
You  ask  me,  girlie.  See?" 

Finally  at  ten,  the  four  official  bells  rang  for 
closing  up.  Our  cash  registers  were  emptied, 
our  counters  put  in  order  and  covered,  and  we 
wearily  put  on  our  things  to  stand  in  line  for 
our  pay.  The  "extras,"  of  course,  were  given 
their  envelopes  last  —  so  I  had  plenty  of  time 
in  which  to  review  my  day's  sensations,  as  I 
stood  waiting  for  my  dollar. 

114 


The  Bride's  Story 

I  had  received  two  "call-downs"  from  my 
boss;  I  had  learned  all  I  cared  to  about  base- 
ment ventilation ;  I  had  known  the  futility  and 
weariness  of  selling  unbeautiful,  taste-degrad- 
ing things;  I  had  done  up  every  conceivable 
shape  and  size  of  bundle  (and  had  longed  for 
some  implement  with  which  to  cut  string) ;  I 
had  been  called  "Dearie"  by  the  floor-walker; 
I  had  learned  all  I  needed  to  about  the  hours 
and  wages  of  the  girls.  But  best  of  all  I  had 
become  genuinely  fond  of  some  of  them,  in  our 
brief  interrupted  talks.  I  had  sounded  the  un- 
limited reservoirs  of  their  good-will  and  friend- 
liness. 

Waitress 

My  second  job  was  as  waitress  in  a  fifteen- 
and  twenty-cent  hash-house.  One  entered  the 
somewhat  dilapidated  door  into  the  restaurant 
itself,  and  ate  one's  meals  either  at  one  of  the 
(not  always  inviting)  tables  or  at  the  counter 
at  the  side  of  the  room:  that  is,  if  one  were  a 
customer.  But  if  one  happened  to  be  the  wait- 

"5 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

ress,  one  came  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
stayed  until  two  in  the  afternoon,  when  Susie, 
the  other  waitress,  relieved  her.  It  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  how  many  of  the  fifteen-  and 
twenty-cent  customers  gave  tips,  and  the 
wages  were  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  week — 
fifty-six  hours  a  week,  the  state  law  fifty-four 
hours,  and  besides  that,  one  was  never  through 
at  two !  There  were  always  the  ketchup  bottles 
to  be  filled,  the  salt,  sugar,  or  coffee  utensils  to 
be  replenished,  the  bread  and  butter  to  be  cut 
for  the  following  day,  or  the  mirrors  and  coun- 
ter to  be  cleaned  —  after  hours.  I  think  that 
the  thing  I  most  resented,  however,  was  the 
constant  interruption  during  one's  own  at- 
tempted meals.  After  the  first  meal  I  began  to 
count  interruptions,  and  reached  a  minimum 
of  five,  a  maximum  of  fourteen. 

Also  I  did  not  always  enjoy  those  meals, 
even  between  interruptions.  The  kitchen  was  a 
dingy  little  room  perhaps  eight  by  twelve  feet 
opening  off  the  restaurant;  a  room  without 

116 


The  Bride's  Story 

windows,  without  ventilation,  and  without  hot 
water.  And  there  I  learned  many  facts  about 
the  preparation  of  food  in  public  places.  I 
learned  that  one  never  throws  away  food  merely 
because  it  drops  on  the  floor;  that  all  utilizable 
"remains"  on  the  dishes  from  the  restaurant 
are  used  again  either  in  the  same  or  in  altered 
form.  And  in  the  realm  of  meat  (mostly  cold 
storage)  —  well,  there  is  an  unwritten  law 
against  discarding  any  meat,  no  matter  what 
its.  condition.  Soda,  I  found,  is  an  entirely  in- 
dispensable requisite  in  restaurant  kitchens. 

But  my  waitress  experiences  were  not  all  of 
this  somber  hue.  There  were  two  very  bright 
spots  in  those  days  of  "dish-slinging,"  —  Bob, 
the  chef,  and  Cy,  the  dish-washer.  My  heart 
warmed  toward  Bob  for  the  kind,  helpful  way 
in  which  he  instructed  me  in  my  duties.  Very 
fortunately  I  was  assuming  them  on  a  Sunday 
—  an  off-day  for  the  Imperial  Restaurant,  so 
the  demands  on  my  capacity  were  not  only  far 
less,  but  it  devolved  upon  Bob  rather  than  upon 

117 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

the  manager  to  give  me  my  first  instructions. 
The  boss,  Bob  warned  me,  was  a  very  difficult 
person  to  please,  and  he  was  likely  to  be  rather 
abrupt  and  critical.  But  I  was  told  that  I  must 
not  get  "fussed  up"  by  it. 

Between  Sunday  customers  we  discussed  all 
the  problems  of  the  world ;  Bob  told  me  about 
his  girl,  or  rather  girls;  and  Cy  entertained  us 
with  tales  of  his  world-wide  travels.  Once  he 
turned  to  me  and  said :  — 

"  Say,  Margaret,  —  suppose  you  was  a  rich 
man's  daughter  and  never  had  to  work. 
What'd  you  think  it'd  feel  like?" 

"What  makes  you  ask  that,  Cy?"  For  a 
second  I  thought  he  suspected  me. 

"Oh,  I  dunno, — nothin'  special.  Say, what 'd 
you  do,  if  you  was?"  (No,  he  was  entirely  in- 
genuous.) 

"  I  'd  try  to  help  the  people  that  were  n't  so 
fortunate  as  I  was,  Cy.  And  then  you  see  I'd 
have  time  to  work  all  I  wanted  to  for  woman 
suffrage." 

118 


The  Bride's  Story 

The  joy  and  unhampered  freedom  of  those 
talks — their  human  realness  and  value !  I  have 
searched  in  vain  for  a  social  gathering  of  previ- 
ous years  to  balance  them. 

On  Monday  the  boss  appeared.  And  al- 
though I  had  learned  to  accost  each  customer 
with  cutlery,  three  slices  of  bread,  butter,  and 
an  "Order,  please,"  I  had,  alas,  not  learned  to 
carry  more  than  two  large  and  loaded  plates  in 
one  hand,  and  two  "bird  bathtubs"  in  the 
other:  three  was  the  requisite.  Indeed,  the  first 
notice  that  was  taken  of  me  was  when  the  boss 
discovered  that  I  could  only  carry  two.  He  had 
not  felt  called  upon  to  answer  my  "Good- 
morning"  at  his  first  appearance,  but  he 
shouted  with  righteous  indignation  when  he 
discovered  my  deficiencies  in  plate-carrying. 
The  customers  were  not  nearly  so  startled  as  I. 
For  two  days  I  struggled  to  keep  my  temper 
under  the  lash  of  his  insolent  superiority. 

On  the  third  day  of  my  service  I  slaved  as  I 
believe  I  had  never  slaved  before  or  since,  sit- 

119 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

ting  down  thirteen  times  in  eight  hours,  five 
times  during  "breakfast,"  eight  during  the 
noonday  meal.  It  was  just  about  time  for  me 
to  leave  the  insufferable  heat  of  the  little  kitchen 
when  the  boss  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"You  ain't  needed  here  any  more,"  he  in- 
formed me. 

Bob's  "Well,  I'm  damned!"  relieved  the 
situation. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  take  my  dismissal  as 
most  employees  would  have  taken  it — silently. 
It  is  incredible  that  a  person  not  dependent 
upon  the  wage  involved  —  one  naturally  in- 
dependent —  should  have  been  as  intimidated 
as  I  was  by  that  overbearing  misuse  of  em- 
ployer's power.  And  yet  it  was  only  by  a 
supreme  effort  that  I  forced  my  sense  of  justice 
to  overcome  my  sense  of  intimidation.  In  those 
few  tense  seconds  I  realized  how  helpless  the 
average  wage-dependent  employee  must  feel 
against  that  employer's  power. 

I  fought  against  it  enough  to  ask  why  I  was 

1 20 


The  Bride's  Story 

being  dismissed.  Quite  evidently  such  a  ques- 
tion had  never  before  been  put  to  him,  and 
there  was  an  amazed  instant  before  he  turned 
back  into  the  restaurant.  I  followed  him  there 
and  reinsisted :  — 

"  I  would  like  to  know  why  my  work  is  unsat- 
isfactory." 

He  retreated  into  the  kitchen  —  I  in  digni- 
fied, if  determined,  pursuit.  Again  he  took 
refuge  in  the  restaurant,  and  there,  finally 
cornered,  he  turned  on  me  fiercely:  — 

"You  ain't  no  good,  you  ain't  experienced, 
and  I  could  n't  learn  you." 

I  started  to  remove  my  apron  and  replied:  — 

"No,  I  don't  believe  you  could  learn  me, — 
or  rather  I  should  say,  teach  me,  because  I  feel 
that  I  could  be  taught  only  by  a  person  of  good 
breeding.  Good-afternoon." 

Rag-Time  Clerk 

"Wanted  —  Girl  to  play  piano." 

I  copied  down  the  address,  and  within  an 

121 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

hour  I  was  sight-reading  for  the  manager  of 
another  of  Rochester's  five  and  ten  cent  stores. 
Rag-time  is  not  my  forte,  but  it  was  even  less 
that  of  the  frightened  girls  who  floundered  over 
the  keyboard  before  my  turn  came. 

"  I  want  some  one  to  play  for  me  on  trial  to- 
day," he  said,  nodding  as  I  played. 

It  was  Saturday,  my  lucky  day. 

I  was  inserted  on  a  little  platform  between  its 
protecting  brass  rail  and  the  piano,  with  barely 
enough  room  in  which  to  operate.  And  I  was 
expected  to  pound,  bang,  and  thump  rag-time 
from  eight-thirty  until  six,  with  a  ten  per  cent 
commission  on  all  music  which  I  sold  as  a  result 
of  said  pounding,  banging,  and  thumping. 
That  was  if  I  made  good.  Fortunately  for  me, 
as  a  Saturday  "try-out"  I  was  to  receive  a  flat 
one  dollar,  and  found  myself  at  six  o'clock  with 
but  three  dollars'  worth  of  sales,  and  a  conse- 
quent "  seventy  cents  to  the  good."  I  did  not 
feel  the  seventy  cents  unearned. 

On  the  contrary,  I  left  that  store  with  the 

122 


The  Bride's  Story 

shattered  feelings  of  the  mother  of  a  delicately 
nurtured  child,  who  has  been  paid  to  watch  her 
child  beaten  into  insensibility.  Not  only  had  I 
been  asked  to  play  as  loud  as  possible  "to  get 
customers  in  off  the  street."  Not  only  had  I 
been  told,  "Don't  push  the  new  things  which 
sell,  anyway;  play  the  old  stuff  that  don't  go. 
Get  it  out  of  stock."  But  all  this  I  had  to  do  in 
competition  with  a  phonograph  playing  thun- 
derous records  at  the  other  end  of  the  store ! 

There  had,  however,  been  one  compensation. 
A  brilliant  and  benevolent  idea  had  seized  me. 
For  several  years  I  have  been  interested  in 
Music  Settlements,  as  the  means  of  giving  to 
people  who  could  not  otherwise  have  lessons, 
high-rate  music  at  low  prices.  It  seems  to  me 
that  one  of  America's  greatest  needs  is  more 
music.  It  is  the  one  universal  language  for  all 
races  and  all  kinds  of  people.  Here,  then,  was 
an  opportunity  to  attempt  a  little  musical  uplift 
upon  my  working-girl  associates  —  a  little  sur- 
reptitious Music  Settlement  Work.  I  watched 

123 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

my  chance  when  the  manager  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  store,  and  I  began  playing,  in  my 
most  rag-time  touch,  the  Soldiers'  March  from 
"Carmen."  I  was  feeling  quite  helpful  and 
quite  virtuous,  indeed,  when  suddenly  I  heard 
a  voice  from  a  near-by  counter:  — 

"Aw,  say,  would  you  mind  playing  'Did  You 
Ever  Hear  of  Anybody  Dying  from  a  Kiss' ..." 

There  had  never  been  a  Music  Settlement  for 
her. 

As  for  my  boss,  he  reminded  me  that  I  was 
there  to  sell  what  they  had  in  the  store.  "  Clas- 
sical stuff's  too  expensive  and  too  much 
bother."  At  the  end  of  my  day  of  musical 
prostitution  the  following  conversation  ensued : 

"It's  no  use,  Mr.  Sanford,  I  can't  stand  rag- 
time all  day  long." 

"No,  I  guess  you've  been  used  to  playing  a 
little  different,  a  little — well—  "  reluctantly — 
"a  little  better  kind  of  music." 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "the  last  place  I  worked  I 
did  n't  play  rag-time." 

124 


The  Bride's  Story 

"No,  you  ain't  got  the  rag-time  touch." 
I  thanked  him,  assuring  him  that  a  "rag-time 
touch"  was  no  touch  at  all.  With  that  I  de- 
parted, both  of  us  mutually  satisfied:  he  that 
the  future  might  hold  for  him  some  one  who 
could  make  more  noise;  I  with  the  knowledge 
that  his  girls  received  between  three  and  five 
dollars  a  week,  and  that  Music  Settlements 
were  more  necessary  than  ever! 

The  Chemical  Shop 

My  fourth  job  was  in  a  chemical  shop  where 
I  found  the  one  exception  to  the  employers  with 
whom  I  came  in  contact.  I  found  an  employer 
who  did  not  superimpose  upon  me  the  feeling 
of  his  superiority  and  power.  I  could  not  ask 
for  a  nicer  relationship  than  Mr.  Borden  gave 
me.  To  be  sure,  I  received  only  five  dollars  a 
week,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  our  weekly  hours 
were  six  and  a  quarter  less  than  the  fifty-four 
hour  law. 

I  sat,  or  stood,  at  one  of  the  long  tables  in  the 

125 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

packing-room,  weighing  and  measuring  pills, 
bottling  them,  labeling  and  sealing  the  bottles. 
Sometimes  I  filled  bottles  from  huge  vats  of 
liquid  compounds,  and  then  corked  them,  la- 
beled, boxed  and  re-boxed  them.  There  was 
only  one  other  person  in  the  packing  depart- 
ment, a  reserved,  sallow,  listless  girl  whose 
weariness  I  began  to  understand  after  one  day 
of  chemical  fumes.  The  odors  from  the  labora- 
tory and  the  fine  dust  from  the  pills  we  handled, 
resulted  —  for  me  —  in  a  headache  most  of  the 
time  I  worked.  I  realized  at  least  one  of  the 
causes  for  that  almost  universal  tired-eyed  fa- 
tigue of  factory  girls.  Very  seldom  does  one 
meet  an  efficiently  healthful  woman  who  has 
been  long  addicted  to  factory  work. 

And  yet  that  job  could  hardly  be  called  fac- 
tory employment.  The  room  was  a  large,  spa- 
cious one,  and  except  for  the  disadvantages  of 
the  work  itself  was  a  fairly  pleasant  place  in 
which  to  labor.  Then  there  was  the  delightful 
informality  of  Mr.  Borden's  comings  and  goings, 

126 


The  Bride's  Story 

such  as  would  be  impossible,  of  course,  in  any 
except  very  small  industrial  concerns. 

The  Cravat  Factory 

The  contrast  between  Mr.  Borden  and  my 
next  employer  was  extreme.  I  applied,  a  few 
days  later,  at  a  cravat  factory  in  answer  to  an 
advertisement  I  had  seen  in  the  newspaper. 

"Wanted  —  Bright  young  girl." 

I  was  interviewed  by  a  huge,  burly,  bear-like 
man  —  the  kind  of  boss  one  reads  about  in 
books.  He  chewed  an  enormous  cigar,  expec- 
torated with  extraordinary  regularity  and  effi- 
ciency: in  short,  he  was  not  a  person  one  cared 
to  know  intimately.  And  yet  I  must  give  him 
credit  for  being  the  one  employer  who  in  my 
interviews  seemed  to  take  notice  of  my  stock 
phrase,  "I  know  how  to  use  my  head  and  keep 
it."  I  did  not  arrive  that  morning  until  seven 
o'clock,  so  the  position  advertised  had  already 
been  taken  —  and  he  was  about  to  turn  away 
when  that  phrase  arrested  him. 

127 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Can  you  write?"  he  demanded. 

"I'm  willing  to  show  you  my  handwriting," 
I  said. 

He  gave  me  paper  and  pencil,  and  watched 
me  as  I  wrote.  I  waited  for  him  to  speak,  but 
he  seemed  lost  in  the  reflective  joys  of  chewing 
his  cigar.  Finally  he  mused :  — 

"Well,  I  was  n't  thinking  of  this  job  this 
morning,  but  if  you  want  to  make  out  checks 
I  '11  let  you  have  it  to-day." 

"What  would  the  pay  be?"  I  ventured. 

He  looked  at  me  appraisingly. 

"  Six  dollars  a  week." 

"And  what  are  the  hours?"  I  managed  to 
ask. 

"Seven-thirty  in  the  morning  until  six  at 
night.  An  hour  out  for  lunch." 

I  cannot  express  how  difficult  it  was  for  me 
to  ask  even  those  entirely  just  and  pertinent 
questions.  Contrary  to  every  instinct  in  me,  I 
found  myself  forced  to  a  sense  of  humility,  of 
subdued  appeal,  with  an  overpowering  feeling 

128 


The  Bride's  Story 

that  to  ask  for  more  than  was  offered  was  to 
lose  what  was  offered.  I  shook  myself  out  of 
the  insistent  psychology  and  inquired :  — 

"That's  not  very  much  pay,  is  it,  for  such 
long  hours?" 

"You  can  take  it,  or  leave  it." 

I  took  it. 

At  seven-thirty  Mary,  my  more  immediate 
boss,  arrived,  a  typically  weary  example  of 
"the  woman  who  toils,"  her  buoyancy  and  her 
vitality  gone,  become  by  the  nature  and  reason 
.  of  her  work  an  automatic,  monotoned  machine. 
We  left  our  hats  and  coats  in  a  little  cupboard, 
at  the  end  of  the  big  cutting-room  where  we 
were  to  work,  and  Mary  listlessly  directed  me 
to  a  high  wall-desk  near  the  stock-tables.  I 
perched  myself  upon  one  of  the  tall  stools  in 
front  of  a  formidable  pile  of  papers,  and  felt 
very  clerical,  indeed.  I  was,  I  found,  to  make 
out  recording  checks  from  the  salesmen's  sheets, 
for  the  cutter,  the  band-stitcher,  the  operator, 
the  labeler,  the  boxer,  and  the  finisher.  In 

129 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

brief,  I  was  the  connecting  link  between  the 
selling  and  the  producing  end  of  the  business. 
To  be  sure,  I  was  merely  an  automatic  cog  in 
the  machine,  but  "automatic"  does  not  mean 
that  work  is  not  concentrated  and  wearing,  I 
was  to  find.  One  slip  in  a  figure  or  a  number 
might  mean  a  dozen  or  a  gross  of  neckties  cut 
wrong,  and  also  a  generous  cut  in  one's  salary. 
It  was  a  relentless  sort  of  a  job,  mechanically 
responsible,  but  uninteresting,  uninspiring. 

Yet  indistinct,  illegible,  and  bewildering  as 
were  those  salesman  sheets,  they  were  as 
charted  maps  when  compared  with  the  indis- 
tinctness and  confusion  of  the  manner  in  which 
Mary  explained  the  system  to  me.  She  thought 
of  and  told  me  things  quite  casually,  quite  un- 
enlighteningly,  —  with  an  astounding  disre- 
gard of  the  intimate  connection  between  causes 
and  effects.  In  consequence  I  was  forced  to  ask 
innumerable  questions,  which  she  answered  in 
a  manner  plainly  inquiring,  "Don't  you  even 
know  that  without  asking?"  Mary  was  be- 

130 


The  Bride's  Story 

coming  a  martyr.  I  began  to  hesitate  to  make 
inquiries,  with  resultant  mistakes,  which  Mary 
handled  somewhat  after  this  fashion,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  rest  of  the  room :  — 

"Say,  Margaret,  you  did  n't  put  down  that 
this  was  a  special  order." 

"How  would  I  know  that  it  was  special?" 
I  asked. 

"By  the  color  of  the  order  sheet,"  laconi- 
cally —  an  item  Mary  had  neglected  to  men- 
tion to  begin  with. 

A  moment  later:  — 

"And  here  youVe  got  order  I375A  instead 
ofi575A." 

I  went  over  to  investigate. 

"That  salesman's  order  certainly  looks  like 
1375  to  me,  Mary." 

"Yes,  but  we  have  n't  got  a  style  1375,"  she 
added,  with  an  air  of  triumphant  finality. 

When  the  lunch  hour  arrived,  I  was  given  a 
card  with  my  name,  address,  and  department 
registered,  and  this  I  inserted  into  the  time- 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

clock  which  records  one's  arrival  and  departure 
morning,  noon,  and  evening.  We  streamed  out 
into  the  glaring  noonday  sun,  and  I  found  my- 
self beside  one  of  the  girls  who  worked  in  the 
cutting  department. 

"It's  even  hotter  out  than  it  was  in  there, 
is  n't  it?"  she  offered. 

"That's  saying  a  good  deal,"  I  said. 

"T  ain't  as  bad  as  it  has  been,  though." 

"Have  you  been  working  there  long?"  I 
asked  as  we  walked  along. 

"No;  I'm  not  there  a  week  yet.  Don't  even 
know  yet  how  much  I  'm  going  to  get." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  inquired. 

"Why,  none  of  us  that  was  hired  last  week 
could  get  the  boss  to  say  how  much  he'd  pay 
us.  And  we  all  wanted  work  so  bad  we  just 
took  the  jobs  and  we  won't  know  till  Saturday. 
I  hope  it'll  be  enough  to  pay  my  board." 

She  turned  in  at  a  dilapidated  boarding- 
house. 

"See  you  later,"  she  nodded. 

132 


The  Bride's  Story 

For  two  days  I  stuck  to  the  nervous  con- 
centration and  automatic  responsibility  of  my 
"  clerical "  work.  But  owing  to  the  contrariness 
of  Mary  and  the  weather  combined,  I  felt  that 
I  was  perhaps  taking  more  out  of  myself  than 
was  consistent  with  our  vow  against  health 
sacrifice.  I  went  to  my  boss  a  little  appre- 
hensively. 

"Mr.  Goldstein,  I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't  stand 
the  strain  of  that  work  from  seven-thirty  in 
the  morning  until  six  at  night.  I  have  to  get 
my  own  breakfast  before  I  come,  and  my  sup- 
per when  I  get  home,  —  and  then  I  'm  doing 
my  own  laundry,"  I  added  apologetically. 

"Those  are  our  hours,"  he  replied  gruffly, 
"and  I  guess  we  can't  change  'em  for  you." 

"I'm  not  asking  you  to,  Mr.  Goldstein, — 
I'm  just  telling  you  I  can't  stand  them." 

He  grunted  a  "sorry"  —  the  enormity  of 
which  admission  encouraged  me  to  proceed. 

"Mr.  Goldstein,"  — I  faltered. 

He  lit  his  cigar. 

133 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Mr.  Goldstein,"  I  plunged  in  again,  "I 
think  in  doing  that  work  that  I've  earned  a 
living.  And  yet  you're  paying  me  six  dollars, 
and  that's  two  dollars  a  week  less  than  the 
Minimum  Wage  Commissions  say  is  the  very 
least  a  girl  can  live  on!" 

He  consigned  the  commissions  to  a  place  I 
shall  not  mention  here. 

"Commission  or  no  commission,  those  are  the 
wages  we  pay.  We  pay  what  a  girl  is  worth." 

"You  mean  what  the  people  on  top  who  want 
to  make  their  fortunes  say  she's  worth,"  I  re- 
torted. 

"Why,  I  was  n't  getting  but  six  dollars  a 
week,  a  few  years  ago,  myself,"  he  said. 

I  fear  that  I  was  not  duly  impressed  with  the 
finality  of  his  argument.  I  seized  the  opening. 

"Well,  for  that  very  reason,  don't  you  want 
to  help  make  it  easier  for  the  rest  of  us  —  and 
for  the  people  that  come  after  you  ? " 

He  did  n't  have  time  for  "them  social  prob- 
lems." 

134 


The  Bride's  Story 

"  But  why  not  make  it  an  individual  prob- 
lem ?  Here  *s  your  chance  to  give  all  these  people 
a  square  deal."  He  seemed  dazed. 

I  went  on,  now,  quite  relentlessly:  — 

"Mr.  Goldstein,  they've  just  passed  a  law  in 
Oregon  saying  that  no  female  employee  shall 
receive  less  than  $8.25  a  week.  Now,  what  do 
you  think  of  that  law?" 

He  showed  his  versatile  knowledge  of  New 
York  legislation  by  inquiring:  — 

"Have  we  got  that  law  here  in  New  York?" 

And  there  was  my  opportunity! 

"Good  Heavens,  no  —  have  we  equal  suf- 
frage in  New  York?" 

"No,  and  it  will  be  a  damn  long  time  before 
we  will  have  it!" 

I  agreed  that  we  have  against  us  the  liquor, 
the  vice,  and  the  propertied  interests,  and  that 
those  are,  indeed,  strong  in  New  York. 

The  woman  suffrage  interlude  more  or  less 
closed  our  impersonal  conversation,  but  as  we 
walked  away  from  the  factory,  he  told  me  con- 

135 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

siderable  of  his  personal  hard  luck,  the  falsity 
of  his  very  best  friend,  his  consequent  financial 
failure  and  struggles:  all  with  a  dogged  sense  of 
his  individual  misfortune,  but  with  no  realiza- 
tion of  the  necessity  of  cooperative  rather  than 
competitive  effort ;  no  glimpse  of  the  need  for 
banding  together  with  other  unfortunates. 
Unintelligent  though  he  was,  smoking,  expecto- 
rating, for  all  that,  as  I  said  good-bye  to  him  I 
had  a  strong,  warm  feeling  of  sympathy  and 
liking  for  his  great,  rough,  uncouth  personal- 
ity. Perhaps  if  he  had  had  a  chance  — 

Piano-Play er  at  the  "Movies" 
My  last  job  was  as  piano-player  in  a  moving- 
picture  show,  for  one  endless,  excruciating, 
terrible  day.  Of  course,  much  of  the  wear  and 
tear  for  me  sprang  from  the  fact  that  I  had 
never  done  it  before,  and  I  had  to  play  as  if  I 
had !  But  aside  from  the  extenuating  character 
of  my  personal  dilemma,  there  is  an  undoubted 
strain  in  the  work  of  the  moving-picture  ac- 

136 


The  Bride's  Story 

companist.  My  piano  was  directly  under  the 
glaring,  ever-changing  picture-screen  —  my 
head  was  tilted  back  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees;  but  hardest  of  all  I  think  were  the 
dizzying  new  demands  made  upon  my  eye- 
sight. 

The  drummer  boy  put  my  impressions  into 
words  for  me  in  between  reels. 

"  Pretty  tough  on  your  eyes,"  he  observed. 

"It  is  rather,  is  n't  it?"  I  agreed. 

"The  last  girl  was  here  three  years  —  she 
just  left  last  week,  and  she's  just  about  blind. 
Got  nervous  prostration,  too.  Too  bad,"  he 
nodded;  "she  was  supportin'  herself  and  her 
mother." 

It  was  time  for  us  to  play  again.  But  as  I 
thumped  away,  first  in  march  time,  next  in 
waltz,  and  then  in  chords  of  tragedy,  there 
drummed  in  the  back  of  my  mind  the  relentless 
rhythm  of  "Three  years,  nearly  blind,  health 
gone,  no  support."  That  night,  weary  in  mind, 
body,  spirit,  and  eyes,  I  sought  the  manager, 

137 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

after  the  performance.  He  made  no  move  to 
pay  me. 

"I  came  for  my  pay,"  I  suggested. 

"Oh,  you  want  to  be  paid,  do  you?" 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

Without  a  word,  he  gave  me  one  dollar, 
turned  to  his  companion  and  went  on  talking. 
...  A  silent  dismissal  and  a  new  sympathy 
for  my  predecessor. 

Her  job  had  been  "specialist"  work.  Not 
only  is  it  precluded  to  all  people  who  do  not 
play  the  piano,  but  to  all  who  cannot  improvise 
and  transpose  with  sufficient  rapidity  to  break 
into  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner,"  when  Presi- 
dent Wilson  jerks  across  the  screen,  and  in  the 
next  breath  to  greet  the  Kaiser  with  "  Die  Wacht 
am  Rhein."  For  three  years  she  had  performed 
this  specialized  work,  from  ten  in  the  morning 
until  ten-thirty  or  eleven  at  night  —  with  one 
hour  out  for  both  meals.  Seventy-two  hours  a 
week!  Her  reward  had  been  nervous  prostration, 
partial  blindness,  and  —  seven  dollars  a  week ! 

138 


The  Bride's  Story 

Summary  of  Employment  Campaign 

Jobs  applied  for  In  person    By  letter 

Paper-box  companies 3 

Laundries 4 

Cravat  factory 2 

Spectacle  factory I 

Cutlery  factory I 

Shoe  factory 3 

Kodak  factory 2 

Chemical  factory I 

Ketchup  factory I 

Perfumery  factory I 

Bakery 3 

Five-  and  ten-cent  stores ....  4 

Grocery  stores 3 

Department  stores 4 

Clothes  store 2 

Moving-picture  company.. . .  I 

Theatrical  agency 2 

Waitress 7  3 

Piano  accompanist  (moving- 
picture  shows,  etc.) 13  2 

Shoe  packing 2 

Hat  trimming I 

Floor-scrubbing 2 

Chorus  girl 2 

Second  maid 9  3 

Salesmanship 4  I 

Clerical 4  i 

80          12 
139 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

At  last  I  had  swung  into  the  field  of  employ- 
ment. By  displaying  a  certain  amount  of  nerve 
and  ingenuity  I  found  that  I  could  get  work 
from  time  to  time.  I  had  to  get  up  early.  I 
had  to  be  persistent.  Sometimes  I  had  to  be  not 
altogether  truthful.  But  I  found  that  a  woman 
could  get  work  —  of  sorts.  Meanwhile  Stuart 
was  having  a  terrible  time  securing  any  sort  of  a 
chance  to  work.  Unquestionably  it  is  easier  for 
a  woman  to  get  a  job  than  it  is  for  a  man.  The 
reason  is  very  simple.  There  are  in  industry 
considerable  numbers  of  women  who  do  not 
have  to  live  on  what  they  earn.  They  are  able 
to  accept  less  than  a  living  wage,  and  their  sis- 
ters are  consequently  forced  to.  A  man  usually 
must  be  paid  enough  to  keep  alive  upon.  Hence 
the  demand  for  women,  particularly  in  the  un- 
skilled trades,  is  very  much  greater  than  for  men. 

"Besides,"  we  hear  it  argued,  "many  of 
these  industries  could  not  exist  if  they  paid  a 
living  wage.  And  then  a  great  many  of  the  girls 
live  at  home  anyway/* 

140 


The  Bride's  Story 

Suppose  a  girl  does  live  at  home,  is  that  any 
reason  that  her  family  should  subsidize  her  em- 
ployer by  paying  the  difference  between  what 
she  earns  and  what  it  costs  her  to  live  ?  On  the 
contrary,  no  business  which  cannot  pay  a  living 
wage  to  its  employees  has  any  moral  right  to 
exist.  Every  human  being  born  into  the  world 
has  a  right  to  live  —  has  a  right  to  a  living,  pro- 
vided he  or  she  works. 

THE  WHITE-SLAVE  PROBLEM 

No  one  who  has  read  Kaufman's  "House  of 
Bondage "  can  wonder  at  the  number  of  girls 
who  finally  drift  into  an  immoral  life,  after  their 
disheartening  struggle  against  an  insufficient 
wage  and  the  inducements  to  a  more  remunera- 
tive life  so  constantly  proffered  to  them.  While 
I  was  at  the  Imperial  Restaurant  I  came  into 
personal  contact  with  that  lurking  danger 
which  awaits  the  working-girl. 

I  was  punching  a  customer's  ticket  one  day, 
and  heard  him  ask  quietly,  — - 

141 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

"Do  you  know  any  young  lady  that  vants 
vork?" 

"No,  I  don't  happen  to,"  I  replied. 

"Good  vages,  nine  dollars  a  week,  pouring 
perfumery  into  bottles." 

"Nine  dollars  a  week?  Why,  I  only  get 
four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  here." 

"Vould  n't  you  like  the  place  yourself?"  he 
suggested. 

"Oh,  no,  it  would  n't  be  square.  I've  just 
come  here  —  and  I  could  n't  do  that." 

"Veil,  think  it  over.  Come  and  see  me  this 
afternoon,"  he  urged,  handing  me  a  piece  of 
paper  from  his  wallet. 

I  saw  that  he  had  given  me  his  name  and  ad- 
dress, and  I  put  the  paper  in  my  apron  pocket. 
Later,  I  went  out  into  the  kitchen  and  said  to 
Bob,— 

"Say,  Bob,  I  had  a  sort  of  funny  offer  just 
now.  A  man  offered  me  nine  dollars  a  week 
pouring  perfumery  into  bottles." 

Bob's  excitement  was  colossal. 

142 


The  Bride's  Story 

"That's  where  I  seen  that  man  before,"  he 
exploded;  "that's  where! —  Say,  girlie,  I  used 
to  keep  a  restaurant  in  Syracuse  and  that  man 
used  to  come  and  make  dates  with  all  my  girls. 
Used  to  give  'em  little  nickel  knives  —  shaped 
like  boots  —  Well,  I  guess  we  had  him  looked 
up  and  he  was  a  nice  kind  of  a  man,  he  was! 
We  got  him  arrested  outside  the  restaurant  door 
and  he  got  t'ree  years  —  Say,  that's  where  I 
seen  him  before!" 

I  was  rather  excited  myself,  and  I  said,  — 
"He'd  be  a  good  sort  of  a  person  to  investi- 
gate, would  n't  he,  Bob?" 

"M  —  yes,  if  you  take  your  husband  along." 
That  afternoon,  Stuart  and  I,  after  due  con- 
sideration, made  our  way  to  the  address  which 
had  been  given  me.  We  found  ourselves  on  a 
narrow  side  street,  in  the  most  dilapidated  part 
of  town,  gazing  at  a  rambling,  shabby  house, 
whose  piazza  steps  gave  ominously  under  our 
cautious  footsteps.  Guardedly  we  rang  the 
doorbell.  The  man  himself  opened  the  door! 

H3 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

Evidently  he  was  in  alliance  with  the  landlady. 
His  expression,  when  he  saw  me  with  a  male 
escort,  was  worthy  of  C.  D.  Gibson,  but  he 
played  his  part  shrewdly  and  ushered  us  into 
his  "reception-room."  The  furniture  included 
a  bed,  bureau,  some  chairs,  and  a  table.  With 
a  gesture  he  designated  a  very  specious  and 
dubious-looking  array  of  perfumery  bottles, 
arranged  on  the  table,  an  array  quite  evidently 
gathered  from  a  near-by  drug  store.  There  was 
no  sign  of  vats  from  which  perfumery  might  be 
poured,  no  hall-marks  of  a  workshop.  Very 
suavely  and  very  profusely  our  host  asked  us  to 
sit  down,  and  I  noticed  that  the  hair  around  his 
temples  —  he  did  not  take  off  his  hat  —  was 
closely  shaven.  He  talked  as  rapidly  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  human  being  to  talk  —  sketching 
out  a  very  plausible  explanation  of  the  perfum- 
ery business  which  he  was  trying  to  establish 
in  various  cities. 

"The  last  place  I  put  it  through  vas  in  Syra- 
cuse," he  said,  "and  now  I  vant  two  young 

144 


The  Bride's  Story 

girls  with  heads,  vhile  I  make  a  business  in 
Rochester." 

He  turned  to  Stuart. 

"  I  vant  to  tell  you,  young  man,  the  minute 
I  saw  your  vife  I  knew  she  had  a  head.  I  have 
been  in  many  restaurants,  but  I  have  never  seen 
any  von  who  can  sling  the  dishes  the  vay  she 
can.  And  you  —  vhen  you  have  not  got  vork, 
and  you  vant  to  come  here  and  read  your  news- 
paper, it  vas  all  right  —  sure." 

He  hardly  seemed  to  stop  for  breath,  so  eager 
was  he. 

"Of  course,  vhen  ve  start  to  vork  these  furni- 
ture vas  taken  out  into  the  next  room  and  this 
vill  be  made  like  an  office.  All  these  things  vill 
be  taken  out,"  he  repeated. 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  he  should  appear 
at  the  restaurant  the  next  day,  and  if  I  wanted 
the  job,  I  should  say  "Yes,"  if  not,  "No."  At 
this  point  he  offered  to  let  us  smell  his  perfum- 
ery, and  there  we  feel  we  made  a  false  step. 
Fearing  the  possible  consequences,  we  refused, 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

and,  of  course,  must  have  put  him  on  his  guard 
—  if  he  had  not  been  already  suspicious.  His 
manner  when  we  started  to  go  was  not  at  all 
regretful,  but  was  distinctly  evasive  when  I  in- 
quired about  some  nickel  knives  which  I  sud- 
denly noticed  on  the  table. 

"Oh,  just  little  souvenirs  what  ve  give  our 
customers,"  he  said. 

It  was  an  oddly  shaped  knife,  and,  we 
thought  to  ourselves,  easily  describable  by  the 
excited  Bob's  "boot-shaped"! 

Outside  on  the  sidewalk  again,  we  compared 
suspicions,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  walk  and 
consultation  we  decided  to  go  to  police  head- 
quarters. But  as  we  mounted  the  stone  steps, 
we  stopped  short. 

"  Suppose  they  should  ask  us  who  we  are ! " 

"Well,  we've  certainly  got  to  report  this 
man,  whatever  happens,"  said  Stuart. 

So  we  went  in. 

We  told  our  story  to  a  much  interested  offi- 
cial, who  waited  until  we  had  finished,  and  then 

146 


The  Bride  s  Story 

told  us  that  the  detective  we  wanted  was  up- 
stairs. At  last  we  were  ushered  to  the  appro- 
priately important  person. 

That  gentleman  neither  removed  his  hat  from 
his  head,  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  nor  his  feet 
from  his  desk.  He  seemed  not  only  uninter- 
ested in  our  tale,  but  distinctly  suspicious  and 
skeptical  of  us.  In  spite  of  it  we  told  our  story 
and  his  manner  gradually  changed.  To  our 
surprise,  however,  his  interest  seemed  to  be  in 
us,  rather  than  in  the  "case."  He  thought  it 
too  bad  that  a  nice  girl  like  me  could  not  earn 
more  than  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  week. 
We  steered  him  back  to  our  story.  Quite  casu- 
ally he  took  down  the  description  of  the  man, 
still  more  casually  he  called  an  officer,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  more  that  we  could  do. 

"  I  will  send  around  and  investigate  the  man," 
he  said. 

"Could  n't  we  all  go  together?"  I  asked. 

My  suggestion  did  not  meet  with  favor.  So 
with  a  final  plea  that  the  investigation  be  made 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

immediately  on  account  of  the  man's  probable 
uneasiness  due  to  our  visit,  we  left,  powerless 
to  do  anything  else. 

On  telephoning  to  the  headquarters  we 
learned  that  the  police  had  been  sent  only  the 
morning  of  the  next  day.  Charles  Hoffman  had 
left,  bag  and  baggage,  within  one  hour  after  our 
departure  from  his  room ! 

ANOTHER  PROBLEM 

"Yes,  but  if  girls  did  not  invite  the  advances 
of  these  men,  they  would  not  receive  them." 

How  often  I  have  heard  women  indulge  in 
that  comfortable  dismissal  of  the  subject.  My 
life  in  Rochester  taught  me  —  what  I  had  dimly 
realized  before  —  that  there  are  two  distinct 
attitudes  of  the  average  man  toward  women. 
There  is  his  attitude  of  mind  and  manner 
toward  the  protected  woman,  and  his  attitude 
toward  the  unprotected  woman.  I  wish  you 
would  walk  down  the  main  street  of  Rochester 
with  me  and  listen  to  my  little  second-maid 

148 


The  Bride's  Story 

friend.  I  have  never  met  a  more  genuine  and 
sensitive  nature. 

"Mrs.  Chase,  I'm  so  discouraged  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  I  have  been  looking  for  work 
for  four  weeks  now." 

"Four  weeks?"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  and  now  I  can't  take  cars  to  my  inter- 
views any  more,  I  'm  getting  so  low  on  money. 
I  just  walk  and  walk  and  get  so  tired.  What 's 
a  girl  to  do?" 

"  Do  you  mean  you  have  n't  had  one  chance 
for  a  position  in  four  weeks  ? " 

She  hesitated. 

"Well,  there  was  one  place  I  could  have  had. 
But,  you  see,  I  'm  pretty  particular." 

We  walked  on,  and  I  waited  for  her  to  con- 
tinue. 

"But  it  does  n't  always  do  you  much  good 
to  be  particular.  The  last  place  I  went,  such  a 
nice  lady  engaged  me.  And  when  I  got  there  — 
the  man  of  the  house  —  well  —  he  made  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  stay.  It's  pretty  hard,  is  n't 

149 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

it,"  she  broke  out,  "when  you  see  the  girl  that 
is  n't  decent  always  getting  the  best  chance  ?  — 
And  when  you  do  struggle  along,  and  keep  de- 
cent, and  earn  your  little  five  dollars  a  week  — 
what  is  there  to  live  for  ? " 

There  are  so  many  shapes  and  forms  of  this 
danger  which  await  the  unprotected  girl.  The 
risk  of  answering  newspaper  advertisements  is 
in  itself  considerable.  How  many  girls,  in  need 
of  work,  would  sense  a  note  of  warning  in  the 
advertisement,  "Wanted  —  Bright  young  girl, 
for  light  work.  Good  pay."  One  of  the  girls  in 
our  boarding-house  had  answered  such  an  ad- 
vertisement. Her  parents,  unfortunately,  had 
equipped  her  with  the  arms  of  Ignorance,  deem- 
ing it  equivalent  to  Innocence.  She  had  no 
sense  of  premonition  as  she  was  led  upstairs  for 
her  interview,  —  in  fact,  not  until  she  found 
herself  in  a  bedroom  with  the  door  locked. 

"You  can't  imagine  how  queer  I  felt,"  she 
told  us,  "when  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw 
came  into  the  room.  He  came  in  just  as  if  he'd 

150 


The  Bride's  Story 


always  known  me  —  just  as  affectionate  and 
familiar  like." 

"Were  n't  you  suspicious  then?"  we  asked 
her. 

"Well,  I  was  when  the  woman  motioned  him 
to  go  away.  Then  she  told  me  that  the  work 
would  be  selling  a  wash  for  eyeglasses,  and  she 
asked  how  old  I  was." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  Something  told  me  not  to  let  her  know  I  was 
only  twenty  years  old  —  and  just  like  a  flash  I 
found  myself  telling  her  that  I  guessed  I  could 
n't  do  the  work,  because  it  would  take  too  much 
time  from  my  husband  and  my  three  little 
children." 

"How  did  you  get  out?"  we  asked  excitedly. 

"Why,  she  was  just  so  stumped  at  that  hus- 
band of  mine  and  the  three  children  that  she 
unlocked  the  door,  kind  of  in  a  dream.  You 
bet  I  did  n't  let  any  grass  grow  under  my 
feet!" 

By  some  miracle   the   psychology  of  her 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

quick-witted  story  had  been  successful.  Those 
less  clever  girls  whom  we  never  hear  about ! 

And  yet,  what  are  we  doing  for  those  girls 
whom  we  do  know  about  ?  I  had  often  heard  of 
cases  in  our  Boston  stores,  in  which  the  employ- 
ment manager  has  suggested  to  girls  an  easy 
and  lucrative  means  of  supplementing  insuffi- 
cient wages.  But  we  are  not  likely  to  be  more 
than  passively  disturbed  about  these  "cases  we 
hear  about"!  Imagine  yourself,  rather,  talking 
to  a  very  average,  everyday  girl,  while  you  wait 
in  an  employment  office.  You  have  talked  with 
her  for  some  time  about  jobs  (their  scarcity), 
and  wages,  and  Rochester,  and  the  moving- 
picture  shows,  and  the  parks.  And  you  ask  her 
if  she  has  tried  for  work  at  Blank's,  quite  the 
most  important  and  respectable  department 
store  in  town  ? 

Immediately  she  is  alert,  startled  and  chal- 
lenging. 

"Yes;  did  you  get  it  put  up  to  you,  too?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

152 


The  Bride's  Story 

"Oh,  I  thought  perhaps  you  meant  some- 
thing, when  you  asked." 

"I  don't  understand,"  puzzled. 

"Well,  when  I  asked  for  work  at  Blank's  I 

was  offered  six  dollars.  And  I  told  Mr. 

that  I  could  n't  live  on  six  dollars  —  I  could  n't 
make  both  ends  meet."  She  stopped. 

"What  did  he  say?"  I  invited  her. 

"He  said  he  guessed  I  could  find  some  friend 
to  help  pay  my  board.  That's  what  he  said." 

A  few  weeks  later  another  girl  told  me  the 
identical  story,  and  again  the  employer's  name 
came  out  scornfully,  unmistakably.  Girls  with 
some  grievance,  or  some  axe  to  grind  ?  Strange, 
then,  that  the  same  accusation  came  volunta- 
rily from  the  head  of  a  charitable  organization 
and  from  the  wife  of  a  prominent  Rochester 
minister ! 

I  believe  that  the  time  must  come,  if  it  has 
not  already  come,  when  our  attitude  —  par- 
ticularly the  attitude  of  the  "protected"  wo- 
man—  must  change  toward  the  girl  who  has 

153 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

succumbed  to  temptation  —  temptation  that 
often  comes,  as  I  have  shown,  from  the  top 
down.  It  is  all  very  well  for  those  of  us  who 
have  not  the  remotest  conception  of  that  temp- 
tation to  say,  "  I  would  rather  starve  than  sell 
myself,"  but  not  one  of  us  knows  of  what  stuff 
we  are  made  until  the  test  is  applied.  Some  day 
we  women  will  have  a  word  to  correspond  to 
the  man's  word  —  "fraternal." 

AND    FINALLY 

During  those  eight  weeks  in  Rochester  I  had 
applied  for  ninety-two  positions.  I  had  held 
six;  the  hours  ranging  from  forty-eight  to  sev- 
enty-two hours,  the  wages  from  four  dollars 
and  fifty  cents  to  seven  dollars  per  week.  I 
had  felt  the  sure,  gradual  killing  of  individual 
initiative  under  the  forces  of  mechanically 
automatic  work  and  employee  subservience.  I 
had  felt  the  powerlessness  of  the  woman  in  in- 
dustry, her  helplessness  as  an  isolated  bar- 
gainer against  the  cruelly  insufficient  wage  sys- 

154 


The  Bride's  Story 

tern.  I  had  found  that  some  employers  give 
their  employees  easy  hours,  rest-rooms,  read- 
ing rooms,  and  hygienic  places  in  which  to 
work.  But  everywhere  I  had  found  the  unwil- 
lingness to  give  a  living  wage.  I  met  personally 
and  heard  incessantly  of  that  particular  and 
inexcusable  misuse  of  employer's  power,  forcing 
the  girl  to  give  up  her  job  or  her  good  name. 
And  in  spite  of  having  attacked  my  industrial 
life  in  the  best  of  health  (with  a  six  weeks'  rest 
and  vacation  behind  me),  I  had  come  to  feel 
the  beginnings  of  that  weariness  which  char- 
acterized many  of  my  fellow  workers. 

The  efficiency  experts  are  agreed  that  in  in- 
dustries requiring  concentrated  effort,  the  max- 
imum of  efficiency  is  reached  in  an  eight-hour 
day.  This  admission  of  human  endurance  is 
based  on  the  maximum  amount  of  output  ob- 
tainable, not  on  any  theory  of  justice  for  the 
laborer.  But  the  inferences  in  regard  to  the 
laborer's  health  and  endurance  are  significant. 

In  all  my  six  jobs  I  worked  over  eight  hours 

155 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

a  day  (Saturdays  excepted),  and  in  all  these 
jobs  I  received  less  than  a  living  wage.  I  came 
to  realize,  as  never  before,  the  crying  need  for 
protective  legislation  for  women  in  industries 
—  the  need  of  shorter  hours,  minimum  wage 
laws,  and  factory  inspection  (enforcement  as 
well  as  laws).  To  be  sure,  the  State  of  New 
York  has  a  fifty-four-hour  law,  and  some  States 
have  forty-eight-hour  laws,  for  their  women. 
But  that  limits  the  number  of  hours  for  the 
week,  not  for  the  day.  And  an  employer  may 
demand  twelve  hours  of  work  one  day  if  he  so 
desires — just  so  long  as  the  week's  maximum 
is  not  exceeded.  There  is  no  limit  in  New  York 
to  the  insufficiency  of  wage  which  one  may  be 
forced  to  accept. 

If  I  were  destined  to  enter  the  industrial 
world  permanently,  or  for  any  length  of  time, 
I  should  make  every  possible  effort  to  go  to  one 
of  the  States  where  suffrage  has  been  granted  to 
women.  If  I  were  to  work  in  Colorado,  Cali- 
fornia, or  Oregon,  I  should  have  the  protection 


The  Bride's  Story 

of  both  an  eight-hour  law  for  women,  and  a 
Minimum  Wage  Commission.  There  are  only 
five  States  in  the  Union  which  have  an  eight- 
hour  law  for  their  women  and  these  five  are 
equal  suffrage  States  —  Colorado,  California, 
Oregon,  Arizona,  and  Wyoming.  Of  the  seven 
States  which  have  an  effective  Minimum  Wage 
Commission,  five  are  equal  suffrage  States 
(Colorado,  California,  Oregon,  Washington,  and 
Utah).  And  Kansas,  a  sixth,  has  a  Wage  Com- 
mission Act.  It  is  also  not  irrelevant  to  remem- 
ber that  the  greatest  number  of  women  in  in- 
dustry are  found  not  in  these  States,  but  in  the 
male  suffrage  States!  For  every  hour  that  I 
worked  over  eight  hours  a  day,  I  became  that 
many  thousand  degrees  more  a  Suffragist,  for 
I  have  proved,  in  those  Rochester  weeks,  that 
a  disenfranchised  class  tends  to  become  an 
exploited  class. 

It  is  impossible,  of  course,  for  those  who  have 
not  burned  their  bridges  behind  them  ever  to 
know  the  real  and  bitter  struggle  of  the  men  and 

157 


A  Honeymoon  Experiment 

women  whose  earning  power  is  all  that  stands 
between  them  and  starvation.  And  yet  in  those 
few  weeks  I  caught  significant  glimpses  of  the 
sternness  of  life  for  the  rank  and  file  of  our  citi- 
zens, which  no  amount  of  previous  "  sympathy" 
had  ever  suggested  to  me.  More  nearly  than 
ever  before  I  was  the  unprotected  woman.  I 
felt  somewhat  her  handicaps  and  her  weak- 
nesses, but  more  keenly  than  anything  I  felt 
her  strength  and  her  possibilities.  I  learned 
to  know  and  to  love  her.  For  a  brief  time  I  knew 
the  weariness  of  working  all  day,  and  then  com- 
ing home  to  housework  at  night.  My  old  life, 
with  its  round  of  friendships,  visits,  traveling, 
and  personal  interests,  took  on  a  new  and  an 
almost  trivial  aspect.  I  began  to  realize  that 
heretofore  I  had  been  playing  with  existence, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  I  can  ever  go  back  alto- 
gether to  the  old  life.  There  will  aways  be  a 
little  part  of  me  wandering  there  in  Rochester. 
Finally,  I  realize  that  perhaps  many  people 
are  shaking  their  heads  as  to  the  wisdom  and 


The  Bride's  Story 

gallantry  of  a  groom  in  sharing  with  a  bride 
experiences  of  so  unsheltered  a  nature.  The 
"stalwart  oak  and  clinging  vine"  idea  of  ro- 
mance does  not  favor  independent  thinking 
and  action  for  women.  But  to  me  that  utter 
equality  and  comradeship  —  in  the  midst  of 
life  as  it  is  for  the  many,  not  as  it  is  for  the  few 
-is  chivalry  in  reality.  You  see,  we  shared 
everything.  To  me  it  was  the  most  complete 
tribute  which  any  man  could  pay  to  any  woman. 


THE   END 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  051  803     5 


